Mr. O Cedar and I got the chance to know each other rather well this past week. A quite brooding type, O Cedar patiently and tirelessly did what was asked of him. Stealthily hunting down renegade cat hair. Performing covert maneuvers around dusty baseboards. Courageously pinch hitting for Mr Webby when a wayward cobweb seeked refuge in that corner just out of reach.
He listened to my ramblings without complaint. Never minding when I would occasionally toss him aside to take a quick peek at my blog then forgetting where I had abandoned him hours later. As far as brooms go O Cedar was as good as the best of them.
But ours was a strained and doomed relationship. And I have to admit that the flaw comes from me. You see I am hopelessly broom impaired. Me. The woman with a collection of broomsticks any witch would envy. The woman who dresses up as a broomstick carrying witch every Halloween (and sometimes in July) for as long as anyone can remember.
In my hands O Cedar's head would start to unscrew. Something about the way I sweep causes the handle to loosen from the head or the head from the handle. So every few strokes I have to stop to step on the bristles and twist the handle to tighten it again. And again. And again.
Maybe I need a left handed broomstick. I asked Mr Petunia to show me how he sweeps. Trying to convince me that this wasn't the first time he's even touched a broom, he swept. Broom in front, left to right. I asked the Kiddo how he would do it. I know he's handled a broomstick before but that was when he thought they were only for playing Quidditch. He gave it a go just to humor me. Broom in front, left to right.
Aha! I grabbed O Cedar and performed my non award winning moves. Broom on right, back to front! That must be it. My unorthodox sweeping must be causing O Cedar so much stress that he was literally losing his head.
Armed with this new found knowledge I held O Cedar with renewed compassion. It wasn't his fault. It was me all along. Broom in front, left to right. Wow. So far so good. Round the kitchen island we go. Under the dinning table, along the barstools and over to the fridge. A dust bunny along the wall quivered as I made my way over with my trusty comrade. I tightened my grip. Broom in front, left to right. Swoosh....
Off went O Cedar's head. It was almost like slow motion. I watched it turn somersaults. Bristles standing on end like a frightened black cat. It whooshed over the sofa, hit the coffee table and finally came to rest in the middle of the living room floor.
Sigh...perhaps O Cedar and I were never meant to be. Relationships need more than compromise. They need some amount of skill. Something I seem to be lacking. So I've resigned myself to the fact that it's time to move on. I gathered O Cedar's broken remains and solemnly stored him in the broom cupboard for now. Someday we might try again.
I need something new. I'm taking a chance on a guy I've relied on every now and then. Usually as a backup or reliable sidekick. It's a whole new routine but I think we can work together. This might even be the start of a fabulous relationship. From now on I'll be sweeping, or rather swifting with Mr. Swifter instead.
Ummm....did I already see this in a commercial?
