My stepdad asked recently how I spend my free time… Two days (on and off) kneeling on hard ceramic tile. Scrubbing grout. Woo-hoo. At first, I was pretty excited about finding a cleaning product that worked so well…now I don’t know if I ever want to see the stuff again!! To make the time pass faster, there was a crazy running monologue in my head. This is how it went:
Starting out: “Don’t go down on the bad knee first. Wait. Which one’s the bad one? OW! Yep, that’s the bad one. I can’t believe how fast this stuff is working. Holy moley, look at all that dirt coming up. That’s amazing. And gross. Really gross. But it’s quick. I’ll be done in no time.” Yeah right. “I didn’t think the grout would ever be this white again. I love this stuff! Ok, one square down. About 1827 more to go.” Slight exaggeration. “I have to pee. Too bad, not getting up. Don’t sneeze. Or cough. Coughing’s the worst. Keep scrubbing.”
About an hour later: “What is that on the bottom of the dishwasher? That’s disgusting.” Trying to reach the paper towels, I started pulling myself up holding on to the sink. Wet hands, wet feet… I slipped, on the way down hitting my chin on the counter, falling to my knee…the bad one. “Mother Hubbard!” (I didn’t say Hubbard.) “Are my teeth still there? Yep, think so. Chin’s bleeding a little. It’s ok. Don’t bleed on the grout. Keep scrubbing. If you gotta bleed, bleed on your shirt. Teeth are still there, chin hurts. Ok, kitchen’s done. We’re never walking in here again. The grout’s too white for that. Still gotta pee. Move to a dry part of the floor before you get up. If you hit your head, no one’s gonna find you. Until it’s time to go back to work and you never show up. Then they’ll come looking and you’ll be laying here and they’ll see the rest of the floor and the grout’s not done.”
A couple of hours later, after a pity party and a nap: “Ok, you’ve got this. Put on Pandora and get to work. Kitchen looks great. Gotta make the rest of the floor look like that. Keep scrubbing. Alright this is coming up pretty good. I love Van Morrison. We were born before the wind… (singing loudly)…Also younger than the sun… Keep scrubbing. Younger that the sun? I feel older than dirt. I wish I could sing. Oh I love this one. Lean on meeeee, when you’re not strong, and I’ll be your friend, I’ll help you caaaarrry on…This stuff really is amazing. The floor’s looking good. No, no, no….don‘t play Pink Floyd. I can’t stand Pink Floyd. Gotta change it.” (Crawls to the table where the computer is) “Lots of people like Pink Floyd. Is something wrong with me that I don’t? My brother likes their music. At least he likes the Eagles too so that’s something. Ok, that’s better. While I’m here, I should check my email… and I think I’ll finish watching that documentary on YouTube.”
An hour later…ok, two hours later…: “The floor’s not gonna scrub itself. That’s it, just finish the hallway tonight and do the rest tomorrow. Yep, that’s still the bad knee. This is really good stuff. I’m so glad I got it. Keep scrubbing. ‘I got one moooorre silver dolla, but I’m not gonna let em catch me, no. Not gonna let em catch the midnight riiiider.’ Keep scrubbing. Almost done. You missed a square. Dammit.”
Day two: “Make your coffee and finish this! You got it. Down ya go. One more room and you’re done. OW! That’s not even the bad knee. Start scrubbing. Keep going. I don’t care how good this stuff cleans, it’s from the devil. Who puts white ceramic tile in a house anyway? Well you bought the house, Einstein. Keep scrubbing. Yes, Pandora, I’m still listening and no you’re not playing to an empty room. ‘Tuesday’s gooooone, like the winnndd…’ Keep scrubbing…Floor’s done. But look at all that stuff under the bookshelves. You gotta get that. Maybe next time. Next time? You know that’s not gonna happen anytime soon. Get up, move the shelves…then there’s the light fixture… and the windows…
An eternity later: It’s all done. I’d take some ibuprofen but I’d have to walk in the kitchen to get water and the grout’s too clean.