Well, I went back to the doc again this week, and she told me I still have to do the total vocal rest thing. Total. Vocal. Rest. I’m telling you, she doesn’t know what she’s asking. So, Charis went to Mimi and Poppy’s this week, Foster went out of town with Mark, and I had the house all to myself, with not a soul in the world to talk to except for Annie, our Shitzu. And she’s not the world’s best conversationalist, if you know what I mean.
So, I didn’t talk. I was supposed to rest, but I decided to take advantage of having the whole house to myself with no one to mess up behind me, and I cleaned the place top to bottom. After all, a really clean house makes me feel better. And in the process, I have become addicted to one particular cleaning product.
Now, at the risk of sounding like a commercial, I’ve got to tell you that Mr. Clean’s Magic Eraser is amazing! My bathtubs – swiped clean in seconds. My sinks – sparkling. That thing will take just about any grime off of any surface with a minimum of effort.
Well, maybe not ANY grime and ANY surface. But almost.
And in the midst of my excitement, I had to ask myself, when did I become the kind of person who gets deliriously happy over a cleaning product? I mean, really. That is just so . . . I can’t even think of the word. But it’s so not me.
So, there you have it. This is what my ongoing sickness has brought me to.
Hello, my name is Renae, and I am a Magic-Eraser addict.
I would love to sign this post, “Silent in Seattle.” If I lived in Seattle, that would be so cute. But alas, I don’t, so I’ll just sign off as . . .
Talkless in Texas
(P.S. When I signed on today, I had SEVEN comments from you wonderful people that I have neglected to even check or post. Please forgive me. I’ve been distracted, cleaning my bathtubs and such . . . I’ll try to do better, but you know how it is with addicts . . . )