The Battle of the Bathroom

With the joy of a long weekend looming, the list of put offs until then begins to grow. Buy food, exercise something that will hurt the next day and last and always least, clean the house. With modern living providing us music devices so small they fit in the palm of your hand, televisions so big you need an extension for a bigger wall and communication so fast you've already read this blog before I've finished typing it - why the hell am I still mopping floors and ironing shirts? And always, always the shower the crappiest job on the housework list stares back in its scale lined glory knowing precious long weekend time will need to be sacrificed scrubbing those tiles with the point of no return soap scum displayed along the shower glass door. I find the only way to tackle it is to put on music as loud as your palm held barbie sized music device will allow and go in with trigger nozzles blazing. Don't come out at least until Nancy Sinatra and Lee Hazlewood have finished the Summer Wine, or the chemical fumes have got to you and you've passed out face down in draino. Onward Windex Soldiers...