You got that right, sister. This is what it’s all about – in your case, anyway. Oh, it doesn’t have to be. But I think you walked right into this one, with all that talk of how much fun it would be to keep things shining clean.
Fun? What in tarnation is fun about that, I’d like to know. That was the wedding-reception champagne talking.
And who put up that twee little sign that says “Model Kitchen,” I wonder. Maybe he did that. That’s her first test – see if she picks it up off the floor! That’s clutter, is what it is. And then for full marks, she has to scrub the sign. After all, it’s been on the floor, right?
The honeymoon period lasted about two seconds, judging from the next scene. He’s turned into the Great Dictator, she’s scrubbing all day to no avail.
Having said all that, she’s probably just using spit on a dishrag – since the Old Dutch surprises her so much. “Do you mean there’s a difference in cleansers?” Yup, and in brainpower too!
To wit: instead of getting down to getting that layer of grime off the floor, our heroine conducts a test “that proves that Old Dutch is better” – with a plate and a coin and whatnot (to show that it isn’t gritty – you get the idea). Like she has time for that!
Like any of us have time for those shenanigans. Hell, I have some magazines to read and naps to take – I can’t be doing science-fair experiments with the cleaning products.
But anyway. Yeah, happy ending – thanks to that fabulous Seismotite (you may recall this amazing stuff from earlier posts – I’ll put in the link when I transfer the post over here, which should be in the next day or so).
Cue the condescending comment from the man in the last scene – and doesn’t he look like a real twit and a half. I’d like to see him scrub a few floors (or possibly scrub a few floors with him).
Lady – you might be smarter about cleansers. Maybe. But about everything else – not so much.
And check out the creepy promotional ad at the bottom of this tragic-comic tale – you know, the old send in fifty thousand labels and get a little piece of junk by return mail sort of thing. It’s for silverware, which is OK – but who the hell is handing her the flatware, Beezlebub’s PA? What is the backstory here? Maybe I had it all wrong…Maybe this lady is just biding her time with Mr. Clean – waiting for the right moment to transform into her evil other self!