There comes a certain time when two male roommates, two old and dear friends, have lived together long enough to be open. There comes a time when these two young roommates, who are open-minded and share everything, succumb to a very particular kind of tension. It's a time when things start to feel terribly, gloriously dirty.
It is at these times that we clean the bloody, living hell out of this apartment.
Today was a bad day to be dirt. There is a highly potent, and likely very toxic mix of bleach, tile cleaner, windex, mildew remover and hot water in every pore of my skin. The air here smells like a swimming pool: disinfected and wet.
Hours spend on knees scrubbing beneath counters; scouring satins from the kitchen back-splash; bleaching every surface, even doorknobs.
This place shines. Light pours in, and seems to amplify with each surface it reflects off of.
Now, too cook something splattery...
It is at these times that we clean the bloody, living hell out of this apartment.
Today was a bad day to be dirt. There is a highly potent, and likely very toxic mix of bleach, tile cleaner, windex, mildew remover and hot water in every pore of my skin. The air here smells like a swimming pool: disinfected and wet.
Hours spend on knees scrubbing beneath counters; scouring satins from the kitchen back-splash; bleaching every surface, even doorknobs.
This place shines. Light pours in, and seems to amplify with each surface it reflects off of.
Now, too cook something splattery...