Here are a few of my favorites:
(A review of the Swifter Wet Jet Starter Kit)
This product is a good to initiate the mopping novice but for the real professional reading this review you're going to want to remove most of your flooring in the kitchen and replace it with a mesh net and sturdy bracings. You will then place a removable tarp underneath the netting to catch everything you spill in the kitchen that sifts through the mesh, from cod batter mix, silica, phosphorus, anything you may be cooking with. It's an unusual method, but you'll find your floorspace much cleaner. And the tarp can be wrapped up without spilling it all over your basement. I like my basement clean because I have a vintage white rotary dial telephone collection there, one of North America's foremost collections.
So this Swiffer, while it does remove some dirt, is by far one of the lesser methods.
(A review of the book, "I Like You: Hospitality Under the Influence")
The third Tuesday of the month I host a reading. I invite over collectors of nautical charts from between the years 1867-94 and we read aloud our charts, reciting coastal depths, inlet names, harbours, intersections of longitude and latitude, and so on, long fascinating lists read deep into the night. We are purveyors of our era and never venture outside its 1867-94 bracket, not ever. By 3am or thereabouts we begin smelling our maps, discussing what materials the ink might be composed of, and even occasionally dotting our charts with our tongues to taste what complex flavour compounds have developed over the years.
Concerning hosting under the influence, during our second to last gathering I put out rye bread as an appetiser. We all were having a very good laugh as I read out the inaccurate fathoms from an 1869 chart of the waters off of "Russian America" (Alaska these days), but then my memory fails. Burping to the surface is a murky phantasmagoria of the police arriving, Jeremy Saltmaven defiling my valued 1883 chart of the Puget Sound, and Barbara Boudewijn vehemently discussing a nautical chart from the year 1901. It was horror. I couldn't remain a mannered host, especially after Gainsborough's Blue Boy entered the room and began cussing me out. Only later was it revealed that we had all been poisoned with ergot.
Prior I had read Amy Sedaris's book. At the moment when I needed advice on hospitality, her volume yielded no practical suggestions on how to i.) recognise ergot poisoning ii.)compose one's self with dignity under its spell.
Skip this one and for your next party instead read 'Ergot: The Genus Claviceps (Medicinal & Aromatic Plants, Industrial Profiles)' by Vladimir Kren and Ladislav Cvak. It came in handy during my reading group's next encounter with the colourful fungus. But rye bread is a luring courtesan like that.