Yes, this is a picture of a floor. Whoop-dee-doo, right? Well, look a little closer and you'll see why I'm blogging about a floor. Notice any lighter, more clean tiles? Yeah, so do I every time I walk into the room. Here's how it all went down...
In light of all the freaking beer we had in the fridge and to celebrate our neighbors finally moving out, DJC and I invited a few people over last weekend. This meant some serious cleaning ahead of time. DJC spotted some scuff marks on the floor of one of our rooms where people usually congregate. He asked me if the Mr. Clean Magic Eraser could take care of them. I crouched down on the floor and began scrubbing. Sure enough, the scuffs came right up...along with god only knows how many years of dirt and grime. And then, it happened.
Once I saw the clean tiles, I couldn't stop. I scrubbed until my arm was totally fatigued and cleaned up quite a bit of schmutz. But the bad thing is that I eventually did have to stop well before I had a chance to do the whole floor. Reason 1: My arm was literally shaking. Reason 2: I completely used up the entire Magic Eraser. Reason 3: People were due any minute.
Now, our floor looks splotchier than Michael Jackson's once-black skin and face (forgive me, MJ!). I recently brought home six Magic Erasers to finish the job. I figure if I can knock out several tiles at a time over a period of a few days, I won't get burned out. But, it does have to happen. The splotchiness is killin' me! Thanks, Magic Eraser. Thanks a pantload.