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I’m not a violent person.  But there is something about waking up armed to kill 99.99% of household germs that just thrills me.  And I am not even that germa-phoby.  My kid eats off the floor with the best of them.

This Fall, I am okay to skip the hoopla over pumpkin spice lattes, can bypass the large cinnamon brooms at the grocery store that I usually pine over but never buy because it seems unnecessary, and won’t have a fancy centerpiece adorning my Thanksgiving table.  What I do plan to have, however, is a full gallon of bleach on the regular.

I have heard of Spring cleaning.  I could never really get into it.  In Georgia, Spring lasts for about 3.5 days, so why I would want to spend precious time indoors cleaning when I could be outside?    Fall, however, a different story.  Maybe it is the two stomach bugs and two upper respiratory infections that have already traversed our house, or the note that was sent around my husband’s school of two confirmed cases of both the flu and strep.  Maybe it is the nightmare that was our last Fall/Winter where someone in our house stayed some kind of ill from November thru February.  Whatever it is, something possessed me on a recent Saturday morning to liberally apply bleach just about everywhere.  I bleached the laundry room, pulled out the dryer and with my vacuum, showed that area no mercy.  I did baseboards.  I never do baseboards.   I attacked the pantry and the outside of the refrigerator like there is no tomorrow.  Thankfully, there is a tomorrow, and now my tomorrow is cleaner!

I realized, while it is a tad bit caustic, and there are safety guidelines to read on the side of the bottle, I love the smell of Bleach.  I don’t want to smell flowery sprays that try and transport me to an English garden or Hawaiian island.  I want to smell the hard core aroma of the death of germs.  Give me the hard stuff.

My, my,  I contemplated my weekend and how it was far less ‘exciting’ than fellow reporters of Facebook.  I could post a picture of me snuggled up to a Bleach bottle, but that would just be different and confusing.

Oh, wait. I am different and confusing. 🙂 I  am different and confusing and now the owner of random corners of my home that are very, very clean.