A lot of people who meet me in classes or at work think I'm a really neat and organized person. Maybe I give off that vibe, I don't know. However, if these same poor souls were to actually see my bedroom and bathroom, they'd probably faint. Warzones are more organized than my meager living space. My closet has exploded out to cover everything from my desk, to the floor, to my TV stand. The bathroom is just as bad.
In just a few short weeks, I should be moving back to the home-spot. Assuming everything works out, of course. In my attempt to find someone to sublease my apartment for the rest of the summer and trying to pack everything up, I decided it was in my best interest to actually, you know, clean my mess and make the place look somewhat habitable. Since my class today was cancelled, I decided to blow off my previous plan (laying out by the pool and reading) to make a little leeway on the bathroom. I readied myself for battle. Zebra print bandana, cut-offs, appropriately stained and torn t-shirt. Even if I'm not Susie Homemaker, at least I can look the part.
Armed with a roll of paper towels, a sponge, and Kaboom!, I gently kicked open the door to the bathroom. The counter was covered with mineral makeup, hair products, and tanning oil. For a moment I considered just throwing everything under the sink and wiping down the counter. And then I did it. Don't get me wrong, there was some organization involved. Everything was chunked under in corresponding piles of hair product, medicines, or lotion, but chunked it was.
Then came the heavy duty work: actual cleaning. I have never understood how it is possible to lose so much hair and not go bald. No lie, my hair was everywhere in varying shades to document the many times I have colored my hair over the past ten months. I must admit, the Kaboom! did the job and really cut the grime that I had allowed to build up. With my counter top clean (it only took three different rounds of spraying and wiping), I was feeling pretty good. I am Kabooma, fighter of all things grimy! Dirt? Where? Lemme at it, lemme at it.
It made perfect sense to move onto the toilet and tub. Again, my hair was everywhere. Does my hair really fall out in such a way that it can easily become caught under the toilet seat? Trying hard to not gag, I managed to clean (most) of the toilet in record, nose-pinched time. The part that people would actually see is clean...the base, well there's not enough paper towels on a roll for that.
Kabooma felt the drive to get the tub cleaned too. After about five minutes of hard scrubbing with paper towels, and Kaboom! seeping into my pores, I brought out the heavy duty sponge, also known as the former dish sponge. Spray and scrub, spray and scrub. The edges taken care of, I turned my attention to the Cat in the Hat-like bathtub ring. I scraped at the ring aggressively, leaning far into the tub.
Finally, the sponge decidedly ruined and the bathtub clean enough, I went to stand up. My knees creaking, I pushed off the bottom of the slick and kinda-clean tub. Kaboom!, in times of drought, can be substituted for water on a slip and slide. My hand shot out from beneath my body, and I tipped forward. My right boob smashed into the tub lip as my fingers jammed against the other side. Pain shot through my chest. Struggling to breathe, I grasped my broken breast and rocked back on my heels. I always knew that cleaning was hazardous to one's health.
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