Sunday, June 6, 2010

Bleach smells...like animal fur.



I won't go into why I did this (frankly, I'm not even sure), but yesterday I went over to SF's place to help with his monthly cleaning. I wasn't exactly excited about this, but my apartment is abandoned at all hours of the day till tomorrow so that doesn't leave me with many options. And we do a lot of things together so I figure cleaning isn't too far off. With the room set to Death Cab for Cutie and Ludo, I started with the bathroom (by choice) and scrubbed the sink, toilet, and tub with gloves and a bleachy sponge, filling up the tub with hot water. Then I did dishes, cleaned the kitchen counter, helped SF hang up a northern Cali map on his wall and started sweeping up dusty corners with a small hand broom. We both had to pause and step into the hot, soapy tub water because our feet were literally black. After that I Swiffered and he cleaned off the top of his ceiling fan (which I insisted he do since all it does is circulate dust) and cleaned off the floor so he could mop it. He quickly wet the floors and then asked where/what I wanted to eat for dinner. "Orochon." Easy as pie. Plus he's paying since he owes me for buying him a few tacos from Taco Bell and a 6-dollar milkshake.
He thanked me profusely for helping, saying he'd still be cleaning or would have given up, which I believe since it took 2 whole hours with the two of us for a 3-sectioned apartment (kitchen, bedroom, 2 halls with a bathroom). Not like I had anything better to do.

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