Bowled Away by Cleaning Toilets
I hate doing housework. I particularly don’t like scrubbing the toilet.
It’s not proper man’s work. I’m not saying that it’s women’s work either – but if they happen to conveniently fill the void, I’m not going to complain either. She can scrub the shitter; I’ll kill the spiders. Sounds like a perfect mutually beneficial arrangement to me!
I can tolerate he dishes, dusting, vacuuming, laundry, and even cleaning the gunk out of the shower drain – but I simply cannot find the motivating drive to clean the toilet. I know what evils have been committed in there, as I expect everyone else does, so who would ever want to go willingly back to the scene of the crime afterwards?
Not this cowpoke - that’s for sure!
When I know the time has come, and it’s not possible to hold off the inevitable any longer – I don the extra-strength industrial gloves and protective goggles, and arm myself with trusty toilet brush and sanitizer, and advance on the demon toilet like a medieval knight preparing to joust.
You have to hit it hard, and hit it fast - hit it with everything you have! Scrub, squirt the toilet duck; work that toilet brush! For really stubborn speckle marks - attack it with a Brill-o Pad and a good old-fashioned dedicated focus that would make Lady MacBeth look unsanitary by comparison.
Really make that toilet feel your wrath until it’s accumulated stains and fecal foulness peel back from the bowl like an exotic porcelain orchid unfolding its petals in a tropical shower.
If nothing else, it is my goal in life to be able to maintain a standard of living that ensures that I will never, EVER, have to clean my own toilet again. Every few weeks, I could just hire and fly in a team of chemical and industrial waste specialists to assess the damage, device an emergency reaction plan, and return the toxicity levels in my bathroom back to those of acceptable environmental requirements.
I am environmentally conscious if nothing else!
It’s not proper man’s work. I’m not saying that it’s women’s work either – but if they happen to conveniently fill the void, I’m not going to complain either. She can scrub the shitter; I’ll kill the spiders. Sounds like a perfect mutually beneficial arrangement to me!
I can tolerate he dishes, dusting, vacuuming, laundry, and even cleaning the gunk out of the shower drain – but I simply cannot find the motivating drive to clean the toilet. I know what evils have been committed in there, as I expect everyone else does, so who would ever want to go willingly back to the scene of the crime afterwards?
Not this cowpoke - that’s for sure!
When I know the time has come, and it’s not possible to hold off the inevitable any longer – I don the extra-strength industrial gloves and protective goggles, and arm myself with trusty toilet brush and sanitizer, and advance on the demon toilet like a medieval knight preparing to joust.
You have to hit it hard, and hit it fast - hit it with everything you have! Scrub, squirt the toilet duck; work that toilet brush! For really stubborn speckle marks - attack it with a Brill-o Pad and a good old-fashioned dedicated focus that would make Lady MacBeth look unsanitary by comparison.
Really make that toilet feel your wrath until it’s accumulated stains and fecal foulness peel back from the bowl like an exotic porcelain orchid unfolding its petals in a tropical shower.
If nothing else, it is my goal in life to be able to maintain a standard of living that ensures that I will never, EVER, have to clean my own toilet again. Every few weeks, I could just hire and fly in a team of chemical and industrial waste specialists to assess the damage, device an emergency reaction plan, and return the toxicity levels in my bathroom back to those of acceptable environmental requirements.
I am environmentally conscious if nothing else!
1 Comments:
Are you sure they're not just some group of snobby English equestrians chanting "Ascot"?
Post a Comment
<< Home