More evidence that I am a moron of a house cleaner.
Nearly two years ago when we purchased this house, I talked the husband into letting me hire someone to paint several rooms before we moved in. It wasn’t too hard to get him to agree, as I’m sure he was terrified once I enumerated the rooms that required painting. There were such colors as: metallic gold, dark pinky red (on walls and even some ceilings), dark hunter green on a ceiling, fluorescent greeny yellow and my favorite, I only feed my baby squash- poopy yellow. Yes, I made that last one up, and it perfectly describes the color that was in the master bathroom. I ended up searching Angie’s List and came up with a painter who had all good reviews but was less expensive than the big outfits. He only had 6 reviews, but I figured since they were all good, that it was all good. Big mistake! He and his son did not do a very good job. I won’t detail all of their failings here, since I’ve finally gotten to a happy place where I don’t walk around the house looking at all of the screw ups while my head turns purple. And no, I haven’t fixed the screw ups. Have we not talked about my procrastination? Get with the program, people!
The big incident that I have not been able to erase has to do with my powder room in general and the toilet specifically.
One day I showed up at the house with a load of kitchen stuff. I decided to use the restroom before driving the 25 minutes back to the old house to load up again. I was met with the lovely surprise of a clogged toilet in the powder room. It wasn’t just number one! After I ran from the room and tried not to empty my stomach, I asked the painter if he knew there was a problem in the powder room. He said yes, his son didn’t know how it happened. I promised to bring a plunger on my next trip and got the hell out of there!
When I returned a couple of hours later with said plunger, the toilet was clear, but the bowl was all scratched up. I have no idea what happened, but there’s no possible way that it’s good. (Seriously, what kind of atrocities happened to my poor house?!)
Every time I have cleaned that toilet, and have failed to remove the scratches, I have been assailed with that awful memory and a longing for a new toilet. One that was not tainted with this memory or the remaining scars. Until today. Enter my little friend:
I’ve been using this product for years. Why it did not occur to me until today, to use it on the defiled toilet, is more proof of my lack in house keeping abilities. I’m glad my toilet is scratch free and I got that off my chest. And I know you are, too. Because your weekend just wouldn’t be the same without knowing that the bad painter’s son defiled my toilet. 😉