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From Sky Web News
FORT WALTON BEACH, Fla., U.S. – In breaking news from the Florida panhandle, a Fort Walton Beach man said Friday that for 12 ½ minutes, his house was actually clean.
"Yes, that’s right. My house was actually clean," declared Del Stone Jr., who lives in a 900-square-foot townhouse in this coastal panhandle town. "At one point I looked around and could not find anything that needed cleaning. I asked myself: ‘Could this be it? Have I finally achieved Nirvanna?’ "
Stone said he spent about 28 hours cleaning the house, which included sweeping the patios, washing loads of laundry, vacuuming the floors, filing paperwork, and scrubbing spots out of the carpet.
"I even emptied the wastebaskets in my office and bathroom. It was amazing. Things in those wastebaskets had been there for, oh, I don’t know – decades? I felt like an archeologist digging through the layers of time. Amazing."
Stone could not explain his superhuman cleaning effort, suggesting his inspiration came from divine sources. "I am merely a conduit," he said, lowering his gaze to the floor, which this correspondent noticed could have used a vigorous scrubbing.
"I cleaned and cleaned and cleaned," he continued, his eyes misting over. "And when I stopped and looked around … it was done."
Stone said he is not a fanatic about cleaning, but his house is usually cleaner than most. "I should be creating novels and returning to college for my master’s degree. Instead, I clean house and write nonsense for the Internet."
He said the state of cleanliness lasted only a short while. Within minutes, like a rare Florida snowfall, it had vanished.
"I don’t know what happened. One minute it was clean. The next, well. …"
When this correspondent dropped by for an inspection he noticed a front porch littered with leaves, granules of cat litter on the carpet in a closet, and dust on the bathroom door frame.
"I just swept off that porch!" Stone wailed. "And who vacuums their closet carpets? Even I’m not that OCD."
As we were finishing our interview, a large cockroach scuttled down the hallway. Stone screamed like a little girl, but when the cockroach cornered this correspondent in the kitchen, Stone mustered the courage to spray it into submission.
"That’s Del, 2; cockroaches, 0," he said, brushing his hands with satisfaction. "Three more and I’m an ace."
Stone’s quest for a clean house may remain just that – a quest, as the agents of disorder never sleep.
"That’s true," he said, staring off into the distance. "But one can dream."