reinje's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Solv-Isnt's A while ago, my Fabulous Readership of One asked me what exactly I have been cleaning for 12 days. Almost immediately, I felt a little ashamed that I couldn�t say I have ever cleaned anything for 12 days straight. It did put a bit of a bee in my bonnet, though. So, here I am, newly installed at Opera Camp in the nicest accommodations by far of any of the Young American Artists here. Cherry Valley is a little town in the middle of a few big hills, and there isn�t a snowball�s chance in hell of staying in touch with your loved ones on account of the geography. I apologize for my silence. I am fairly certain that many would-be readers were positively convinced of my demise. Perhaps you conceived of it in a fashion similar to my own: maybe a lethal cocktail of cleaning products, blended in all ignorance in the toilet bowl. Or perhaps while whetting the kitchen knives I lopped off a digit, making it impossible to write, practice, or even clean! Maybe I fell out of our 24th floor apartment in an attempt to wipe that one last smudge off the window. Haven�t we all contemplated our own untimely demise in such a fashion? I must say that my residence in Cherry Valley is extremely comfortable on account of the fact that this charming house is newly renovated. The house is accessible by two front-facing doors on the porch. On the bottom floor of each side there is one room and one bathroom reserved for each of the Young Artist pianists. Two separate staircases lead to the upstairs, which is connected, and hosts 5 singers. They share two bathrooms. Each side of the house also has a full kitchen. I know that you were probably as overjoyed as I was when you read the part about me getting my own bathroom. At this age, I am not too keen on sharing a bathroom with anyone, especially a Divo with long flowing locks. Because, contrary to popular opinion, all male opera singers are not gay and organized. Someone told me that last year, one YAAP actually wore hipwaders in the bathroom to defend himself against the constant barrage of water and public hairs that slopped out of the shower stall. He practically had to paddle his way around the bathroom. So, anyway, today is Sunday, and while it is the Lord�s Day and I want you to know that I did take the day off, I thought I would cap off a nice refreshing day by doing just a teensy bit of cleaning in my bathroom. But when I looked under the kitchen sink, I was absolutely aghast to find only a bottle of Windex, a bottle of Murphy�s oil soap, and a bottle of something called �De-Solv-it.� And nary a rag in sight. Seeing as how I am not a judgmental person, I got right to it, spraying down the shower and sink with the De-Solv-it, on which the label reads: �Biodegradable! 100% Organic! Effective!� But not, as Grandma Betty likes to say: � Which is exactly what it was. This Solv-isn�t was as greasy as the nipples on a tractor, and as I�m sure you are well aware, the Murphy�s Oil Soap wasn�t much better. I mean, come on! Care to slick down your bathroom with oil and take a nice slimy shower? Talk about a magnet for scum! A brand new, renovated house and not a solvent in sight, my word. What I want to know is, where were these people when I was cleaning my parquet floors? But the thing that truly staggers me is what is written on the back of the bottle. There, in red, on the top of the label, it says: �100% Organic! Biodegradable! NO HARMFUL VAPORS!� And then it goes on and on about how you can use it on your house AND YOUR PERSON. Seriously. And then, at the bottom: �DANGER!!! Harmful or fatal if asparated [sic] into the lungs.� Well, I just don�t know what to believe, and I don�t mean to be holier-than-thou or anything, but what idiot doesn�t even know how to spell �aspirate� correctly, never mind get his ducks in a row about whether or not De-Solv-it is going to kill you. Please. In spite of this setback, I must admit that I was pleasantly surprised to discover that I would have the opportunity to regularly clean my living quarters. Because just between you and me and the fence post, I wasn�t sure I could make it through an entire summer living inside a spore-laden, sodden, bacteria-infested house without a chance to fix it. So I guess in a way I�m grateful for whatever solvent they provide me, even if a faux chemist with an IQ of 102 manufactured it. Cutting grease with grease, Reinje 10:42 p.m. - 2005-06-05 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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