It's not exciting. It's not glamorous. It's not even something that I like to do. But it has to be done. Otherwise, yours truly, would be bathing in an atmosphere that isn't conducive to cleanliness and whether you know it or not; I like to be clean.
Cleaning the bathtub has always been an adventure for me. I'm always trying different cleaners to see if there have been any improvements to easily remove soap scum from the edges of the tub. Many cleaners say they remove soap scum but not so in my tub; it must have built up some kind of resistant to all 21st century cleaners.
Since my accident a few months ago, I have been unable to clean the bathtub. Bending over sends spasms of pain through my abdomen and shooting stars to my brain--I became so dizzy and disoriented the first time I tried to clean the tub that I almost mistook the toilet for the tub and reached for some cold water to splash on my face. Luckily, the cat was getting a drink, so I came to my senses rather quickly.
Over the years, the way that I clean the tub has changed, too. No longer am I able to get down on my hands and knees and scrub with gusto. What I once could do in a matter of minutes now takes the better part of a day. I don't mind because sometimes, the simpler a task, the greater satisfaction I get.
In today's society, finding a simple task and being able to complete it in a timely manner can be difficult--cleaning the tub is no exception. There are distractions everywhere. Here is how the task usually pans out:
Step 1: Spray tub, let soak for 30 minutes.
Step 2: Return 2 hours later because you were on Facebook, emailing your friends about your new column and Tweeting to people in South America to buy your latest book.
Step 3: Rinse tub and confirm that the current cleaner did not remove the ring around the tub, change cleaners, spray tub again and let soak for 30 minutes.
Step 4: Return 3 hours later because you had to have lunch, take a nap after lunch because you ate too much and spent way too much time playing Words With Friends.
Step 5: Rinse tub and confirm that second cleaner didn't remove soap scum, take a seat and ponder next move.
Step 6: Wet tub with hot water, place scrubbing pad on bottom of tub, remove shoes and socks and begin cleaning bottom of tub with your feet.
Step 7: Pat yourself on the back about how flexible you are when cleaning the tub with your toes, rinse.
Step 8: Sit on side of tub trying not to bend over and finish cleaning the places you were unable to reach with your feet.
Step 9: Turn on shower and let run for 10 minutes.
Step 10: Return in exactly 10 minutes because you want to get one task accomplished for the day, examine tub for soap scum, find none, smile, you're done.
Ah, the simple joy of satisfaction one feels upon completion of a single task.
The next day my mom called, "What did you do yesterday?" she asked.
"Nothing, really," I said. "I did get the tub cleaned."
"Good. That takes about all day, doesn't it? For some reason I always seem to get distracted."
Cleaning the bathtub has always been an adventure for me. I'm always trying different cleaners to see if there have been any improvements to easily remove soap scum from the edges of the tub. Many cleaners say they remove soap scum but not so in my tub; it must have built up some kind of resistant to all 21st century cleaners.
Since my accident a few months ago, I have been unable to clean the bathtub. Bending over sends spasms of pain through my abdomen and shooting stars to my brain--I became so dizzy and disoriented the first time I tried to clean the tub that I almost mistook the toilet for the tub and reached for some cold water to splash on my face. Luckily, the cat was getting a drink, so I came to my senses rather quickly.
Over the years, the way that I clean the tub has changed, too. No longer am I able to get down on my hands and knees and scrub with gusto. What I once could do in a matter of minutes now takes the better part of a day. I don't mind because sometimes, the simpler a task, the greater satisfaction I get.
In today's society, finding a simple task and being able to complete it in a timely manner can be difficult--cleaning the tub is no exception. There are distractions everywhere. Here is how the task usually pans out:
Step 1: Spray tub, let soak for 30 minutes.
Step 2: Return 2 hours later because you were on Facebook, emailing your friends about your new column and Tweeting to people in South America to buy your latest book.
Step 3: Rinse tub and confirm that the current cleaner did not remove the ring around the tub, change cleaners, spray tub again and let soak for 30 minutes.
Step 4: Return 3 hours later because you had to have lunch, take a nap after lunch because you ate too much and spent way too much time playing Words With Friends.
Step 5: Rinse tub and confirm that second cleaner didn't remove soap scum, take a seat and ponder next move.
Step 6: Wet tub with hot water, place scrubbing pad on bottom of tub, remove shoes and socks and begin cleaning bottom of tub with your feet.
Step 7: Pat yourself on the back about how flexible you are when cleaning the tub with your toes, rinse.
Step 8: Sit on side of tub trying not to bend over and finish cleaning the places you were unable to reach with your feet.
Step 9: Turn on shower and let run for 10 minutes.
Step 10: Return in exactly 10 minutes because you want to get one task accomplished for the day, examine tub for soap scum, find none, smile, you're done.
Ah, the simple joy of satisfaction one feels upon completion of a single task.
The next day my mom called, "What did you do yesterday?" she asked.
"Nothing, really," I said. "I did get the tub cleaned."
"Good. That takes about all day, doesn't it? For some reason I always seem to get distracted."
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