As much as I resist anything having to do with cleaning house, I scrubbed the kitchen sink out today to the point where it almost shines. I probably should have used something more powerful than “all-purpose” cleanser, because “all-purpose” seems to mean that it performs adequately in a lot of cleaning jobs without being really good at any of them. I have this weakness for buying mediocre products just because they’re cheaper. I’m like the producers who keep hiring Keanu Reeves to star in their blockbusters. It’s like craving crème brulée and eating a graham cracker.
But wait, you say. Why was I cleaning the kitchen sink? Surely I’m not having company, and if I were, the kitchen sink wouldn’t necessarily be the place to start.
The facts are these. I was sitting at the computer, working (no, really), and listening to “American Routes” on XM Radio, an episode that pays tribute to Hank Williams. (Senior, of course. Junior is the Keanu of the family, if you want my opinion.) At first I took the rhythmic tapping to be part of the program, but then I realized it was coming from the tap in the kitchen. Drip, drip, drip, and when I tried to stop it, nothing worked.
So I scrubbed out the sink, thinking I would then call the landlord and have him come by and fix the drip. But by the time the sink was clean, the drip had stopped on its own, saving me a phone call (whew!). I’m not about to call the vet after the horse is back on its feet, but at least I have everything I want: a clean sink, and a non-dripping faucet.