Dishwasher rinse agent, that was all it took to make me decide it was time to start this blog back. You’d think all the crazy politics and outcomes would have been enough to make me sit my dainty self down and write a few musings of mirth and bitterness, nope.
It was a bottle of rinse agent for my stainless steel dishwasher that made me shuck all my responsibilities and head to the computer and risk the loneliness of no one reading my stuff. But again, I can be as narcissistic as anyone. Who cares if no one reads my words? I’m happy to share anyway. I don’t do this for a living, but I think I can hook a few followers with not much effort, because this land is searching, searching for some solid ground, searching for some sanity, searching for some wisdom, searching for some reassurance, searching for some ( dare I say it) hope, and in my case, searching for the Mr. Clean scrubbers under my kitchen sink.
Yep, this has to be the first blog that incorporates pretty much everything, including the kitchen sink.
I’m flawed. Yes, I admit it. I have a weakness for cleaning products. I rarely use them but by Golly, I have my share. So when, last night, at the grocery store, my husband grabbed the large size rinse agent, I knew we might be in trouble. I instantly ran a mental check of the under sink drawer and thought , “Ok, it will fit.” Being agreeable at the grocery store was more important than saying, “Hey, put that back and get the smaller size that cost much more per ounce.” I mean, you have to let the man have his way, some time. Rinse agents are not that big of a sacrifice to maintain a lovely relationship. Because, let’s face it, friends, it is Christmastime, and if he wants to get the big size diamond at the jewelry store, who am I to have busted his bubble over an economy sized rinse agent purchase? I’d sure hate for him to have my caution and criticism, ringing in his ears, when size really does matter.
Upon returning home, I left grocery organization to him. I was under quite a bit of pressure to finish my Goodreads yearly challenge. What in the heck was I thinking when I signed up to read 40 books in one year? I was electronically page turning as fast as these reading glasses would let me, Bruce Springsteen’s autobiographical work, “Born to Run.” Whoa, I mean to tell you that man can talk up a blue streak. Over five hundred d@mn pages and I needed to get through his book and another to meet my goal. When I downloaded it in a hurry because I thought, well, he is a rock star, surely, this will go fast, because most rock stars only know how to live fast lives. But of course, I had assumed incorrectly, this man was not in a hurry. God, was I ever wrong. Evidently, it took him seven years to write the book and 63 years to live it. Bruce, my friend, I’m from the South and we are known for talking , sometimes even talking very slowly, but Babe, you needed an editor, one with a mean set of scissors. Well, back to the rinse agent, my sweet husband must have experienced organizational shock when he placed the bottle in the cabinet. His reflexes are more the type, where he can be painting a house and decide, hum, this ladder is falling, but I can jump quicker than it can fall, so I’m going to decide which angle to head as not to be hit with this aluminum stairway to heaven. What he lacks in reflexes, he makes up with logic. The man is a legal eagle for a reason. His rinse agent placement allowed the cabinet doors to shut. In his mind, job well done.
Three years ago we remodeled the kitchen and we splurged an a few things. My favorite was a touch water faucet. Ohhhhh, maaann, it is a dream. Forget fast cars and fancy designer handbags, you want to live the good life, get a touch water faucet. So, I knew this morning when my light touch didn’t turn the water off, something was going to require my cleaning and removal skills. Oh, so right on that one thought. I spent the morning clearing out my useful-yet lightly used cleaning products, collection.
Gone was the grout cleaner. Dispersed the two types of window cleaner, an old stand by and a modern foam glass cleaner that is awesome. Upstairs now has a whole new aisle of interesting cleaning joy, a cleaning products museum, one could say. Next up on my projects list, a Bill Bryson type exposé of the history of cleaning products and how not to use them. Goodreads, I’m gonna say we can put that page count in around ummm, 450 pages. Book of the year, reserve your copy now.
Which brings me to my musing, and reason for this blog post. How can our President Elect, actually run this country on 450 characters a tweet? Isn’t that just plain crazy? He tweets a pootin’ 125 character ‘nothing but a threat’ to a major air craft manufacturer, and their stocks go down mega points; I’m ticked, bet they are livid. Wonder if they could use some window cleaner to see through the crud we are witnessing? I have some I’ll share, but they are going to have to provide the jobs, I don’t do windows.