I wish I could begin to tell you how many hours I spent yesterday trying to get stubborn soap scum off my bathtub. I realize this makes me (a) boring and (b) boring, and also a Stepford Wife who is incidentally boring.
I went on the Internet for tips on how to remove said scum, because the Internet tells me how to do everything, and it said to make a squirt bottle of dish soap and water. So I did that and it didn't work. Why would soap remove soap?
Then it said to heat up vinegar, so all of a sudden it was Easter egg season in here. I sprayed warm vinegar, let it set...and NOTHING.
Then I made a paste of baking soda and water. Then I used the Kaboom I got sent for free for touting it in this blog.
Nothing and also nothing.
Finally in frustration, Tallulah and I went to the store, me in my sweat pants that had dirt all over them because I had been pulling wild onions in the yard earlier. I feel like I live in the only part of the country where it was 63 degrees yesterday.
Anyway I looked good, is what I did. And didn't smell like I'd had a Kaboom and vinegar onion salad or anything. I was sincerely hoping it was Jon Hamm day at the market, because did I mention how good I looked?
To wrap up this scintillating story, what finally did the trick was the Magic Erase thing, which I think is infused with satanic power, which I just misspelled stanic power. It is infused with the power of Stan.
When Marvin got home hours later, I was still cleaning and I said to him, "I want you to go into the bathroom and look in the tub. I know you never noticed the soap scum in there, but I want you to act like you see how clean it is now and tell me it looks good."
"...Well..." said Marvin, holding up a bag from Home Depot. He had caulking stuff and was planning to recaulk the tub. Now it is all dirty again with caulking things.
I hate everything.
In other news, Marvin put this picture up on Facebook:
Here is my childhood in a nutshell. This was my sixth birthday. That is my father's best friend in the purple, there. Nobody in this picture has reached the age of 25, and when I think of how young my parents were and that they were in charge of my small self it makes me unable to breathe a little.
Or maybe that's just the Kaboom fumes.
I gotta make like soap scum and get out of here.