The Clancys of Queens (2016)
“She referred to the floor only as “my linoleum.” If I were to go skipping by on it, she would yell, “Watch with my linoleum!!”—the tone of her voice clearly conveying that she was proof positive that her perfectly preserved polyvinyl floor covering would up and crumble beneath the prancing feet of a forty-pound kid. At some point she must have convinced me, because I remember—even if I was running full blast—I would stop dead before I entered the kitchen, then tiptoe over that linoleum like a c...artoon cat burglar.
Grandma scrubbed her floor at least three times a day, jabbing at it rapid-fire with these short, furious strokes that made the mop look like a tommy gun in her hands. And once she was done pumping it full of lead with her mop-cum–machine gun, she would get onto her hands and knees to scrub the tough-to-reach edges and corners by hand with a rag.
Of course, before the mopping, and probably an additional half dozen times a day, Grandma first swept the floor, gathering the flecks of dirt, crumbs of Italian bread, and strands of hair into a little pile, as anyone else would do.MoreLess
Grandma scrubbed her floor at least three times a day, jabbing at it rapid-fire with these short, furious strokes that made the mop look like a tommy gun in her hands. And once she was done pumping it full of lead with her mop-cum–machine gun, she would get onto her hands and knees to scrub the tough-to-reach edges and corners by hand with a rag.
Of course, before the mopping, and probably an additional half dozen times a day, Grandma first swept the floor, gathering the flecks of dirt, crumbs of Italian bread, and strands of hair into a little pile, as anyone else would do.MoreLess
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