How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love My Household Appliances

I need to come clean about something. Not the floors — those are immaculate now — but me.

I have an addiction to household appliances.

It starts innocently. A toaster that promises even browning. A vacuum that claims to think. A blender that looks like it could survive a minor building collapse. I tell myself this is about efficiency, adulthood, or “taking pride in one’s home.” That’s a lie I whisper softly while entering my credit card number.

And then came my new favorite: the Shark Floor Steamer.

I didn’t need it. I already owned devices whose sole purpose was allegedly “floor-related.” But this one didn’t just clean — it purified. It didn’t use chemicals. It used steam, which is science, morality, and virtue all at once. Steam says, I care about germs, but I also care about the environment. Steam says, I am better than you.

The first time I turned it on, it hissed like a mildly judgmental librarian. The pad glided across the floor with the confidence of a Zamboni. Stains I didn’t remember making — stains that may have been here since the Eisenhower administration — simply vanished. Not scrubbed. Not argued with. Vanished.

At that moment, something shifted inside me.

I started noticing floors everywhere. Not just my floors — other people’s floors. I’d walk into a room and think, That tile is crying out for steam. I began rearranging my day around opportunities to mop. This is not normal behavior. This is what happens right before someone starts saying things like, “Honestly, it’s very satisfying.”

The Shark doesn’t just clean; it rewards. There’s no bucket. No sloshing. No chemical smell that says, You may want to open a window and reconsider your life choices. Just heat, motion, and the quiet thrill of visible progress. It’s productivity theater, starring me, in socks, feeling wildly accomplished before 9 a.m.

And yes, I now own extra pads. Plural. Because if you’re going to live this life, you live it prepared.

I know how this ends. Today it’s a floor steamer. Tomorrow it’s a device that “revolutionizes baseboards.” I will swear this is the last appliance. I will mean it. Briefly.

Until then, if you need me, I’ll be at home, steaming the same already-clean floor, because apparently this is what joy looks like now.