Clorox regular. It should really be called Clorox special. That's what it is. My mom instilled a healthy
respect for Clorox with stories of the instant death of hapless housewives who mixed Clorox and ammonia.
Like all kids everywhere it was an easy association. "Wow, this stuff can kill you. it must be really good or really fun or both." I'm here to tell you I let Clorox go out of my life. Maybe it was the job pressure or the hectic Silicon Valley pace. I had a diffuse sense of unease. A vague sense of something missing. An undefined hollowness. I was alone and adrift in my world. A world without Clorox.
Last week I bought a bottle of Spic and Span. The idiots at Albertson's don't have the powder or worse yet they don't make it anymore. Why oh why do them marketing types keep messing with our cultural icons? What's next, no McNuggets? I bought the Spic and Span and a bottle of Clorox because the white linoleum tile in my shop looks like something from
StalinWorld in Lithuania. I know the bleach will turn my bathroom into a hospital O.R.
So I still haven't gotten around to doing the floors. (Lots of water--let it sit, better living through chemistry, then mop it up and voila.) Meanwhile I had a problem with the plastic jug I use for making iced tea. I use the Lipton caffeine-free. Six bags in liter of hot tap water and throw the whole mess in the fridge. The problem was that the tea would go bad and get that "funky" taste after a couple of days, despite my washing it with Palmolive Gold (tm).
So I remember my ex-girlfriend Valarie, the coke-head who took a bunch of hotel management classes. She told me the hip outfits use bleach to clean the ice tea pots etc etc. So I go downstairs and get the Clorox regular which really should be called Clorox special. About a
I just hope they don't do "Clorox light" and "diet Clorox" and "low fat Clorox" and dilute the brand those Trout and Reiss guys warned about in that book.
Still bright and clean after all these years.
