Sanctity of the kitchen-floor

We are now into the muddy-season.
The season when the ground outside becomes mud, which our dog tracks into the house.
It also gets on my rubbers, but I can take them off in the garage and wash them off before bringing them back in the house which I only do to put them on.
Every afternoon I walk the dog on the leash up to Michael Prouty Park.
It isn’t very muddy, yet, but I have to cross a field.
So when I get back, the dog has a little mud on her feet.
Yesterday I forgot (Cue Bluster-King).
I let the dog into the house, and she promptly tracked mud all over the kitchen floor.
“I just cleaned that floor,” Linda said.
Uh-oh...... Unpardonable sin.
Not heavy mud; just thin brown paw-prints.
Out comes a dampened Scott paper-towel, not the “Quicker-Picker-Upper,” which doesn’t meet our exacting standards (Cue Bluster-King).
I get to watch the same fevered floor cleanup I once photographed when Linda had cancer; causing weeping and wailing and gnashing of teeth among all my siblings.
“What happens if she kicks the bucket?” I think. “Our kitchen-floor slathered in mud?
Who cleans the shower after every use?”
I can imagine myself cleaning it, but not religiously.

Our current dog is “Scarlett;” a rescue Irish-Setter. She’s almost four, and is our sixth Irish-Setter.

“Michael Prouty Park” is a town park near where we live. The land for it was donated by the Prouty family in honor of their deceased son (“Michael”) who used to play in that area. —It is mostly athletic fields, but has an open picnic pavilion. It’s maintained by the town.

RE: “Yesterday I forgot (Cue Bluster-King).........” —My all-knowing, blowhard brother-from-Boston (the “Bluster-King”), the macho ad-hominem king, who noisily badmouths everything I do or say, loudly claims I have failing memory.

“Linda” is my wife of 41+ years. She had lymphatic cancer. It was treatable — she survived. Like most women, she likes our house to be clean. -RE: “Floor cleanup I once photographed.....” —I photographed Linda down on her hands-and-knees during chemo treatment cleaning the floor. I posted the photo on our family’s web-site, generating noisy put-downs from all viewers.

RE: “The ‘Quicker-Picker-Upper,’ which doesn’t meet our exacting standards (Cue Bluster-King).......” —My blowhard brother-from-Boston, loudly claimed that like him we should be using Bounty paper-towels (the “Quicker-Picker-Upper”).