The problem with this desire to eat off my bathroom floor, or glean my reflection from a sparkling bowl is that I can't stand to get that close to the germies that live in bathrooms. So instead I had a cleaning lady that cleaned only my bathrooms. And then she moved away (like 3 years ago - I know, get over it already). And now they suffer.
Last night the plumber came (in the form of my husband) because my daughter the eternal toilet plugger upper had already plugged hers, and now was moving on to mine. And she did a doozy on mine. No amount of plunging or snaking could rid my bowl of its infirmities.
Apparently I missed this day of instruction in plumbing school:
Once the memory of this sight was burned from my mind, I decided that the now water infested floor from God only knows where needing scrubbing. Against my better judgement of pain tolerance I dawned me a pair of raggiest looking bath towels, some hot water, and Lysol, and I went at it (well, I walked in towels [with shoes on - cuz gaross - you don't really think I would have done this barefoot, or heaven forbid in socks???]).
Once I was done, I got out the 409 antibacterial and I sprayed down (read: doused) the entire floor and dawned a new pair of raggiest looking bath towels and did an encore performance.
Then because my fans were hollering to me for a second curtain call, I grabbed my swiffer wetjet (of course with antibacterial formula) and did one last run through - "just in case".
So here is where my obsession got the best of me. I used Comet with bleach and a Mr. Clean scrubber to removed several layers of whatever my tub surround is made of. I then followed it up with Scrubbing Bubbles. And for good effect, and to keep up with second callings, I used my 409 to polish to a beautiful showroom shine.
I have a frequent love affair with those cute little bubble guys - and because they didn't thrill me with their song while in my already scrubbed tub, I needed to hear their chorus before I would feel satisfied. So I lathered down the counter (lots of hairspray make them ever so happy!). And did they ever please. They sang, first in unison, and then at some point, a few artists belted out a love ballad to me - a capella, because they roll that way.
So now, one bathroom is down. Two more to go. But I digress, I have an excuse, so when you come to visit me, please take a right and head upstairs. Please, please, for your own safety, do not enter the other two. You may not come out alive!
