a directed heart

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I hadn’t ever mopped a floor before I started working at Firehouse. I didn’t even know how to mop… I had to ask another coworker to show me how to ready the mop. And then I had to ask the person to show me what to DO with the mop.

Is that sad? News flash for Jacob: I’m probably not as ready as you might think I am for these kinds of “wifely duties.” (He’s most likely already gathered that by now, since he also knows I plunged my first toilet at work, and he has experienced my attempts at cooking first hand. I need supervision when cooking in the kitchen. And direction.)

BUT, there’s another half to this confession: I like it. I like mopping. Whenever I close the restaurant, I’m the one who volunteers to do all the mopping: the back half of the restaurant, the bathrooms, and the service area where the waiters and waitresses make drinks and take food from the window. I think I like mopping because you can see a difference after you’ve mopped. It’s like vacuuming.


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