Scrubbing bubbles. That's all. I want to end this post right there. It's short, sweet. And those that know the delicacy and power of these modern marvels would need no further explanation.
It was a nice week. Since New York, it’s been a bit like Sunday every day. The kind of feeling you get before going on vacation to some far away, tropical land. It's this great, do what you may with this life. A nice little thing. Darling.
Because in about six hours, for the next three months, everything changes. That's just the way it is. A sweet bi-polar vacation from life and responsibility. In that three-month period, I could justify anything you threw at me. Off to Malaysia to adopt a puppet monkey named Nampoo? Fine. Whatever. When you know something like that is approaching, it shifts you. For instance...
On Thursday morning, I HAD to go to Bed Bath and Beyond. No choice in the matter. Siren song. Screaming. Get up fuck bag. No workout today. Come play...in my fields of home and bath decor. Get lost in our translucent shower curtains and window draperies. Meet, for the first time in your inexperienced life, the magical power of Scrubbing Bubbles. So I did...and I certainly did.
I dropped two Ben's and walked home with three fine and ranging black Ann Taylor window curtains...for the middle of my living room? Add to that the two sets of metal rods that are now installed into my ceiling...all by hand. And let me pause to reflect on the realization that I am, in fact...quite the crafty craftsman. The kick the shit out of MacGyver and then drive over his limp body in a vintage Ford Fairlane type. That good. Hey, credit where credit is due.
So anyway, that's exciting. I've got this hanging perimeter around my computer in the middle of my living room. But that's nowhere near the best of it. Did I mention Scrubbing Bubbles? Of course. On the label of the bottle, there is an illustration depicting white bubbles with brush teeth, content to relentlessly pursue and destroy any and all unsightly bathroom stains. Like thousands of these small, living creatures just waiting for me to unleash their fury. Up until I shook that can, I can say with confidence that the line governing fiction from fact in my mind stood unwavering. These creatures could not be real in any realm beyond our generation’s greatest imaginations. Surely, this was a marketing ploy aimed to con hopeful consumers such as myself. As I would soon discover, surely...it was not.
The very instant my finger depressed the nozzle, my friends-the missionaries of cleanliness, the Scrubbing Bubbles lived up to their promise and more. They cleaned with a passion, in marvelous synchronicity. They danced around my bathtub until it became a tapestry of pearl. Then, in the blink of an eye, with their promise fulfilled…they were gone, scurrying down the drain to live out the rest of their bubbling lives with pride. In their existence, their book of lore…no Scrubbing Bubble has ever failed to get the job done. Thursday was no exception. Trust my words.
After that, I installed a new toilet seat, mopped the floor with my new...well, mop...and dropped my first ever little blue disc into the toilet water reservoir. You laugh, but that little blue disc is the greatest invention since the polio vaccine.
I’ve lived at 8736 Holloway Apt. B for 15 months. Never once have I had such an inspiration to clean or alter my apartment like this. Never have I ever thought to get down and clean my bathroom like this. I always rationalize that the opposite of cleanliness is one of my more charming characteristics. Maybe once, I heard someone say that Einstein was a slob. Hello lifetime excuse.
Anyway, my point is that I don't know what the fuck I was doing in Bed Bath and Beyond on Thursday. I don't know why I bought a new toilet seat. I take that back. The one I had was sinister...just awful. Wasn't my fault, but still…
It's almost 1. I have to get up in 6 hours and completely change my life. I'm sure that you have about as much desire to hear about Scrubbing Bubbles as I have desire to strangle myself with a leather belt and get a hand job from Martha Stewart. But you still gave it a read. Maybe not intently, but you're here...
I am such a creature of habit, you have no idea. I get into comfortable patterns that last for weeks...sometimes months. It's not that I'm afraid of ever breaking them...I just don't. I go to bed tonight and tomorrow morning, everything changes. And that's f'n great. See that? Change. I'm cleaning up my mouth...my act. Ever since the M Stew HJ ref, I’ve felt a little dirty.
So...I'm off to bed. Can't wait until tomorrow. Can't wait for a change. Like Christmas Eve with Santa Claus coming to town. My next 3 months are on their way. And holy hell have I got a story to tell. So, I'm off to bed. Can't wait. Can't wait.
...
I loved Everything is Illuminated. Have you seen it? I saw it today. Wanna talk about it? Oh wait, I can't. I have to get to bed. The beginning of the rest of my life starts tomorrow. A new script. The one that breaks me. The bliss and adrenaline...the excitement and the...the brick walls...and the invincibility and the doubt and the piss and shit and ups and downs and...my goodness, this is a self-serving blog…from a self serving man(boy). Enough. Let’s not crack that one open tonight. Save your raisins for Sunday.
...
How were your days? Um...
I guess I should go to bed.
The start of another adventure...
