Actually, that wasn’t too bad. I finaly got to the grocery store to pick up some stuff I’d been meaning to (although I forgot the damn garbage bags again) and wasn’t wondering if the fumes were corroding my optic nerves.
I used the baking soda, you see.
Round 1: Steamed up the bathroom nice and good. Thought about sitting around in a towel and muttering in Russian, but realized that I had work to do.
Round 2: Mixed water and what little baking soda I had in the **Chairwoman’s ** nice mixing bowl. Slopped it around. This wasn’t going to be enough.
Round 3: Went to the nice little grocery store where they actually do sit around in towels and mutter in Russian. Picked up some 10% vinegar (that’s the hardcore m’fucking shit version. The sign said so) and eight pounds of baking soda (it was on sale, you see).*
Round 4: Using some particularly scientific measuring (“ooh, that’s nice and sludgy. Gross. Ha ha! Bubbles…oh, no more bubbles. More baking soda! Ha ha, bubbles”), I slopped the mixture all around and took off to read a little bit of The Big Kill.
Spillane’s a great writer, especially when he really gets into his descriptions (I’ve noticed his mostly in his 1952ish books). As you read it, it sounds great, but when you go back and look it over, it seems baroque bordering on rococo. Somehow, it all works. I have to say, that these opening few pages match the first paragraph of My Gun is Quick and that other one where he comes back from being a spy in Germany, stumbles around drunk, shoots some guy and screws Velda. Brilliant.
Round 5: I start scrubbing with a normal sponge. It’s going much better than I anticipated. I have a cut on my finger I forgot about and the vinegar stings a little and I’m just waiting for my knuckles to turn to hamburger, so I stupidly break out the:
Round 6: Chore-Boy scrubbing pad. This worked marginally better than the spongs and it hurt a little more (I have tender little girl-hands). I think it has something to do with the sponge conforming to the shape of the tub and keeping more baking soda against the surface.
Round 7: I’ve been putting off exercising lately, but this should be a good isometric/endurance workout for the ol’ back and pecs. Considering that I’m also in my tighty-whities, I wonder if I could market a service where dirty old men get to watch nubile young guys like me scrub their tubs. Considering that I’ve only got two days until the ol’ lady comes back, I don’t think I have enough time to even put together a business plan.
Post-fight analysis: Man, was that thing dirty. **Chairman ** boxes clever, wins all rounds on points and doesn’t look the worse for the wear. I didn’t take note of how long I was scrubbing, but all told, it was a twoish hour endeavor (which includes breakfast breaks). Now that I’ve got the stuff, it should take even less time.
So, in eighteen months, I’ll give it another shot.
- Holy Christ, I didn’t realize all the cool things you could do with baking soda (aside from watching the bathtub bubble over and nearly overflow!). I’ll have to investigate some other uses. Who needs crappy cleaning shit when you’ve got this stuff?