Because I was just dismissed from a day-and-a-half long meeting, this post might not center around the most riveting topic on the planet. But hang in there with me. My brain is mush. I'm afraid to turn my head too quickly for fear that important brain matter might sluff out my ear. That's disgusting.
But since I've been talking architecture, design, marketing, concrete and some other things I really don't understand, I'm going to have to keep it simple today. I'm going to have to talk about my Magic Eraser.
Last week, I mentioned that my favorite leggings had rubbed dye onto the leather seats of my two-and-a-half-month old car. I also mentioned that I'd been sitting on a towel since I noticed the problem. Not an ideal solution, but I hadn't come up with anything better. My brother caught wind of the problem and called the head of custodial services for the company he works for. My sister-in-law loved listening to Chris describe jeggings to another man. Chris' contact suggested I call Volvo and have them work on the seat because if they messed up the seat, they would have to replace it.
There's got to be an easier way, right?
So, my brilliant, handy, problem-solving husband suggested I try the Magic Eraser.
I don't know what the hell they've done to these sponges (other than add "extra power"), but I'm on board. The Magic Eraser pulled the dye right up, no problem.
Since then, I've used it on everything I deemed unclean. Except Lacy. But she's starting to really stink, so I'm tempted.
Mr. Clean and I are getting things done together. This picture more or less creeps me out. It reminds me of the relationship between Demi Moore and Patrick Swayze in "Ghost." Minus the pottery wheel. And the romance.
He's not really there lady who just finished cleaning her all-white bathroom (nightmare).
He's just a sponge.
And now I've personified the sponge.
Their marketing has gotten to me.
Or maybe it's my mushy brain's fault.