White Washed

First of all, what demented, psychotic person took over my brain when I picked out my kitchen floor? Clearly I was possessed. I mean what in the hell was I thinking getting white? That was not a smart move what with having a dog & kids. Yes, it was white. Then it started looking this gray color so the white floor had to be washed. Scrubbed, more precisely.

This afternoon I spent oh, probably 239 hours sitting on the floor scrubbing it section by section. Yep, there I was, right there on the floor with a bucket of water, one of those scrubby sponges and a Mr. Clean Magic Eraser. Man, those things are cool! It also probably shouldn’t be used on a linoleum floor because no doubt it is ruining it but it’s the only damn thing that gets though some of the bad spots.

Naturally this was back breaking work, as well as arm breaking when one isn’t used to physical labor. After the first 200 hours, there was also a bottle of Heineken sitting on the floor with me. Hmmm…. I wonder if the alcohol in the beer would have helped with the dirt. Nah, probably not enough alcohol content in beer.

Then in my dazed cleaning stupor, I started thinking odd things. Fine. I think of odd things all the time & you all know this. It’s my story & I can say whatever I want. Anyhow, I got to wondering about bleach. Does bleach clean the dirt or does it just make the dirt white so you can’t see it? Now there’s something to ponder tonight while you’re downing that beer.