You never forget your first laundry triumph.  Several years ago when I only had Princess Zurg to deal with, I was already lowering the standards, thus preparing myself for my future as a mother of boys.  I let her play in mud puddles, setting a very bad example for the other tots on the playground.  (Yeah, go ahead and hate me.  This is
Oregon.  At least I’m not in denial about where I live.)  After one such rendezvous with a particularly nasty mud hole, I made my first foray into the world of bleach.  Let’s just say I was instantly converted.  When S.D. came home that evening, I waved Zurg’s t-shirt in his face and said, “Look at this shirt.  A couple hours ago this shirt was covered in grimy, black mud, and now look how white it is!  Look at it!”  Instead he looked at me and said, “Are you trying to tell me you need more time out of the house?”

Actually, I was hoping he’d be impressed.  And I was a Ms. magazine subscriber.  Hoo-boy!  How the mighty have fallen.

I had a similar experience today, as I was brush-scrubbing my kitchen floor.  This isn’t my usual routine, but I got me one of those Squeaky Clean brushes they sell at Target, and I felt quite chic.  Unfortunately, this hands and knees position allowed me to finally get up close and personal with all the nasty yellow deposits left along my baseboards and appliances by previous floor polishings.  It wouldn’t have been so bad if all the random debris I had failed to remove from the floor before polishing it hadn’t been preserved in said amber like so much fossilized crud.  Mere scrubbing, of course, is useless in these instances, and I began to despair.  “Curse this waxy yellow buildup!  Is there no solution to this problem short of chiseling it off with a butter knife?”  I mentally went through my list of people I know who might have waxy yellow buildup expertise.  I even thought about looking it up on the internet, and that’s when it hit me.

Get.  Out.  Of.  The.  House.

Which is just what I did when Sugar Daddy came home.  I was gone for two and a half hours and did some actual writing.  Real productivity, for a change.  And only one person spilled Kool-Aid on the floor before I got back.

Ammonia.  Yes, I know.  It’s on the back of the Mop ‘n Glow bottle.

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