A short while ago, much to my chagrin, Meredith and I returned to our beloved home to find it littered with poo all over the hardwood floor (and some on the L.L.Bean wet hog mats by the front door). You can imagine my surprise (and the James Bond-like cool with which I kept my composure).

We were turning around to head out some place and I paused long enough to actually consider leaving the poo in position until we returned later. Not cool, I remember telling myself. Pick it up now, I intoned to the dumbfounded me, or you’ll exercise that license to kill that you got from MI-6 during that “incident” in the communist stronghold of Penney, Vermont.

So, I would clean now and it would be fine. The question remained, with what shall I clean it, dear Liza, dear Liza? Regulation poop bags from Price Chopper weren’t going to work in the dense toy undergrowth that is our household floor. I paused a moment longer and decided on a course of action worthy of General Pickett. Armed with a fresh roll of paper towels and a spray can of Pledge I attacked the poo bunkers that dotted the floor in a pattern that resembled self portrait of Picasso on ritalin.

Who knew that, while providing a beautiful sheen to our otherwise lackluster floor, the use of Pledge would cause the surface of the floor to become like a freshly Zamboni-ed speed skating track. Over three weeks later and we are still stepping carefully over that portion of the floor in fear of taking a Vermont-sized digger.

The advice I leave you with is this: while you may pledge allegiance to our flag, I would keep your Pledge from your paths.

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