Every muscle in my body is shrieking at me whenever I try to move more than just squirming in my seat. Normal people don't hurt this much after scrubbing their bathrooms top to bottom. Me, I'm just one of the lucky ones. I had hoped to get more of the house tidied in one go, but I let myself focus a bit much on the one room, one that requires bending and scrubbing, and now I have a loo that sparkles and the rest of the house is waist-deep in debris still. One step at a time.
At least I am liking the switch I made away from caustic cleaners, towards simple and cheap products that don't eat your hands or burn your lungs. Other than a little bleach gel in the toilet, the rest of the room was cleaned with Dawn, baking soda, and vinegar (sometimes all three, sometimes just the dish soap). I wonder whether I could have saved myself some lung damage over the years if I had known these things were superior over the stuff that ought to come with a respirator and thick black rubber gloves. I'm also pleased to learn to use that other magical ingredient: time. Making a goopy paste with soap, soda, and vinegar, smearing it on, and then walking away has changed my game. Oh, how much time and energy I wasted over the years.
I'm not putting up a picture of my bathroom again. You'll have to take my word for it. Instead, I'll steal a couple from my daughter, whose tiny cat Carmen was halfway up her Christmas tree within 30 seconds of it being set up. A new holiday record, maybe.
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