Every so often, my mother has an experience to share regarding my business, soap....whatever and writes a little short story. This one was from last weekend and not so much regarding anything business related other than the horror I found under her sink.
When I found a jumbo box of Irish Spring under my mother's bathroom sink (you know the kind you can get at Costco or Sam's Club bulk stores) I was semi-mortified. Semi, you ask? Well, I do periodically find 20 year old aspirin or a box of cotton balls, where the box looks almost vintage, so I kind of figured that the soap must have been bought from before I started making soap. I just want to mention that my mother keeps an incredibly clean house and everything is immaculate, so I don't want to paint a picture of my mom having vintage cotton ball boxes and 20 year old aspirin in a dingy water stained, hoarder-like household. Not even close to reality. My house will never reach the cleanliness state that hers has been like since I left for college. That is, unless I have a cleaning service - which I sadly don't.
I digress.
So... the soap scenario was fun. My son (11 years old) was 20 feet away, at least and I am sitting on the floor, sliding each boxed bar of Irish Spring down this long, perfect-brand-new-and-double-shiny wood floors and would slide right by my mother (who's face looked stunned), went under her bed and my son would laugh and pick it up from the other side. We all laughed so hard, except, I had to explain that if I ever find another commercial soap box in the house, I may have to be more extreme with my sliding measures.
;)
the tragedy of body detergent. Yes, this is what I found.
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I don't know if I ever brought this up in any of my stories, but Joanna and her husband and children all regularly go through my pantry and medicine cabinet pointing out and tossing those things that have expired. Even Nina's friends have been heard to say "this is expired." This is rather embarrassing, humiliating and obnoxious on their part, but I take a deep breath, being the good sport that I am and put up with their nonsense.
However, Joanna went too far this week end. Too much coffee or something. She was sitting on the floor of my bathroom with the cabinet wide open pulling everything out and throwing everything into the garbage pail. I should have known I was in trouble right then and there. Suddenly she began yelling "bombs away" and slid the first bar of Irish Spring soap down the long hall until it went under my bed. Then the second bar, the third bar and 16 bars later (all under my bed) with my grandson, Desmond bent over laughing. She was done. I couldn't even speak.
I said "you come from very good breeding. Your father was a college professor, your mother a psychotherapist, and you're a freak.
"The apple doesn't fall far from the tree, Ma."
My daughter the diplomat.
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I digress.
So... the soap scenario was fun. My son (11 years old) was 20 feet away, at least and I am sitting on the floor, sliding each boxed bar of Irish Spring down this long, perfect-brand-new-and-double-shiny wood floors and would slide right by my mother (who's face looked stunned), went under her bed and my son would laugh and pick it up from the other side. We all laughed so hard, except, I had to explain that if I ever find another commercial soap box in the house, I may have to be more extreme with my sliding measures.
;)
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