Faith and a Clorox Bottle...

I have really hard water. When we bought the house, even the home inspector was amazed at how much iron was in our water. (Side note: Anyone with an iron deficiency, stop by for a glass, it'll fix you right up!) It turns the sink, toilet, and shower orange in a microsecond. Think I'm lying? Doesn't matter. It's still orange.

Their original color is an off-white, ivory if you will. And we've tried all kinds of cleaning products to clean off the orange, and the best by far is a thing called an "Earth Sponge," made entirely of recycled waste. Rub-rub-rub, orange is gone. But I've been looking into ways of preventing the orange from setting. Cause, let's face it, cleaning the bathroom is a pain in the ass.

And, wallah! Enter Clorox. It promises to not only clean, but to create an invisible Teflon barrier to prevent hard water stains, iron, rust, and other mineral deposits from staining your facilities. And I placed my faith in that promise. I mean, come on, I was paying like $5 for the stinkin' bottle when I could get the generic at the dollar store for less than half that. But we all know how all generics and name-brands are not created equal.

So I used my Earth Sponge to erase the orange, then broke out the Clorox. I followed the directions step-by-step. Now, being an invisible barrier, I don't expect to actually see anything happen. So I congratulate myself, turn off the light, and watch my Friday-night line-up on television.

Two hours later: I go into the bathroom to drain the lizard. Crude, I know, but whatever. What do I see? An orange ring at the water line of the toilet. I lean over and peer into the sink. Orange drip stain from the faucet. I pull back the shower curtain. Orange. Orange, orange, fucking orange. I grew up in a seventies house. I hate orange (especially when paired with olive green, but I digress). Orange fucking sucks.

I realize that I have been had by commercialism once again. Invisible barrier my ass. We have yet to invent a viable use for invisible ink. Granted, how can I prove that Clorox failed? Maybe the barrier is there, but my water is just to much for it... sort of like (I'm drifting into trekie talk here, but bear with me...) the shields on the Enterprise. I can here the Tidy Toilet Bowl Man now:

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TTBM: Captain! Shields are down 80 percent!
Capt: Hold steady course. The bottle promised protection against this enemy!
TTBM: 70 percent! Captain, we can't take this assault much longer. The Iron Moleculations are concentrating on the curve of the bowl!
Capt: Starting evasive maneuvering! Break out the Wand 6000! Scrub, dammit, scrub!
TTBM: It's no use, captain! Shields at 45 percent and falling!
Capt: Where's the back-up! Never trust a brillo pad to be there when you need him!
TTBM: 10 percent! Captain!
Capt: Dammit, I'm a ship's captain, not a maid!
TTBM: Arrgghhh! I'm orange! I'm turning orange! Nnnnnnoooooooooooo!!!!!


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So my faith in Clorox failed me. I have yet to find a preventive measure against iron. Much like Christians have yet to find a preventive measure against sin. But at least Clorox will send me a refund, or coupons or some-such other compensation. I wonder what god will send the Christians when they find their faith is misplaced as well?

I know, I know... I can't even talk about my toilet without trouncing on the right-wing maroons... I can't help it there's a resemblance, though, can I? Shitty is as shitty does...
(I know, Bob, I know, I'm so going to hell for that, save yourself the time of writing me an
e-mail...)