Several months ago, I had a brilliant revelation in the housekeeping department. That revelation was that I could fill a small spray bottle with cleaning product, and keep it in my bathroom cabinet. My thought was that perhaps if the cleaner was actually in the room, those quick bathroom counter wipedowns would happen on a more regular basis.
It is important to keep in mind that I live in a tiny little apartment with four rooms and an itsy bitsy hall closet. The farthest I'd have to walk for a full sized bottle of cleaner is approximately twelve feet. Still, I prefer to categorize this revelation as one of efficiency as opposed to laziness.
I had a bottle of orchid scented body spray in my medicine cabinet that was almost empty, so I dumped out the last few drops and filled it up with bathroom cleaner.
When I was growing up, I remember my parents telling me never to put liquid in an unidentified container, or an already labeled container. A mix up could be catastrophic. And when I filled up my body spray bottle with bathroom cleaner, I remembered their advice.
And I poured away.
And over the course of the next several months I proceeded to use that brilliantly convenient, accessible container of bathroom cleaner exactly zero times.
This morning while I was getting ready for work, I slid open my medicine cabinet. I am going away for the weekend and had already packed my perfume, so I grabbed that bottle of orchid scented spray and VERY LIBERALLY spritzed myself.
About ten seconds later I smelled it.
I had spritzed my entire being in bathroom cleaner.
Because I have a truly endearing habit of leaving no spare time in the mornings, I didn't have time to rinse it all off. In a desperate attempt to do some damage control, I wiped off what I could with the sleeve of the robe that was hanging on the back of the door and sped off to work.
And then I spent the entire day sitting in my cubicle smelling like a member of the janitorial staff.
I think it was even worse than that time I went to work smelling like a margarita.
You were right, Mom and Dad.
I hope my cubicle neighbors forgive me by Monday.