So the thing about New York is, that on certain days of the year, when the sun bounces off the building across the street at just the right angle, and you walk into the kitchen at just the right minute to get a glass of ice water, sun actually streams in the window. Like it does at normal people's houses. And you can see, with staggering clarity, just how filthy the place is. I mean. Filthy. Caked-on goop on the side of the refrigerator...and the basket holding the takeout menus on the side of the refrigerator. Years of grime ground into the fridge handle. Nastiness caked on the front of the stove and the dishwasher. I couldn't actually bring myself to look down at the floor.
So what the heck is in those Mr. Clean Magic Erasers? They dissolve, themselves, and take the filth with them. When I'm done cleaning with them, my hands feel a bit like they've been dipped in bleach. I'm sure there's something on the box that says it's a good idea to wear gloves when you use them. Especially if you have hand mange like I do. They are effective, but man. They give me the creeps.
So instead of doing other things, I just spent about twenty minutes scrubbing, until my magic eraser had erased itself and some of the ick with it. And then the earth rotated and it's now dark as dusk in here. At 1:47 in the afternoon on a late July day.
My apologies to all of you who have stayed in this apartment over the summer.
And also, this post is totally not sponsored by Mr. Clean Magic Erasers. Which is a good thing since Mr. Clean might not like the part about how his magic erasers give me the creeps.
BTW they also take bird poop off the patio furniture. Even if the birds have been eating berries.