April 29, 2015
A month or two ago I discovered
the power of super washing soda. Though
it’s been on my shelf and in my laundry loads for years, and the box clearly
proclaims its other useful applications, I just hadn’t ever used but for
laundry. Something in me suggested that
it would help cut the grease in my kitchen as I wiped out the ovens I had “self-cleaned”
over night. I filled the sink with
water, Dawn dish soap, and a little bit of washing soda. It worked so well, I moved from the interior
of the oven to the stovetop, to the microwave, to the ceiling. As I wiped away years of build up and watch
the surface sparkle, I played music and sang to myself, “I got the power!”
For several years I have made my
own cleaning solution for tub, tile, toilets, anything not glass. It is half
vinegar, half Dawn dish detergent in a spray bottle. It works well.
The girls and Parker have been
pretty lax at cleaning the bathrooms.
Tonight when I went to bathe Josie, I saw that one of the girls at least
intended to start the cleaning I’ve been barking about for two days: the
shampoos and assorted other items littered the floor rather than the shower
area. I made a mental note of the almost
empty blue cleaning solution bottle. So
after putting Josie down, I decided to take the bottle with me on my way
downstairs and fill it, hoping that would increase the chances of the job getting
FINISHED.
A few more runs down and up
additional flights of stairs and all the ingredients were assembled in the
kitchen for the chemistry experiment, er, the solution production: vinegar, Dawn,
and washing soda. Now before you start
thinking I completely failed organic chemistry, let me head you off. I was a star student in organic
chemistry. My professor encouraged me to
study beyond my 200 level courses. And
yes, I recognize that baking soda and vinegar are how you make your elementary science
volcano erupt.
But I had this little experiment
of my own under my belt. Back when I
fell in love with super washing soda, I considered that it would make an
excellent addition to my vinegar/Dawn cleaning solution, kicking the last
element which made me scrub when I cleaned.
Knowing the ingredients had the potential for explosive reaction; I
added just a little bit of soda to my solution and waited. Nothing.
No foam or froth or problem of any kind.
But it did clean all the better for the addition. So I added more. Again, there was no noticeable reaction. I concluded that the base of the detergent
neutralized the acid of the vinegar and made for an effective neutral cleaner. I did not test my theory further, but went
confidently forward mixing a full bottle of enhanced cleaning solution.
First I added the vinegar, then
the Dawn dish detergent. Without
agitating them at all, I added the washing soda. Here is where the fun started. The headspace of the bottle was quickly
filled and exceeded with foam. Though I
had expected less reaction, I decided this made sense since I hadn’t mixed the
vinegar and detergent before adding the soda.
In an attempt to contain the
solution, I screwed the spray nozzle on the bottle. But the foam kept coming, bulging out the
bottom of the bottle until it was a hard bulbous dish and foam started spraying
out the spray nozzle. This was more
reaction than I expected, but I figured it would settle down any minute. So I unscrewed the top releasing some
pressure with a pop which scared me enough to screw the top back on. Clearly, this was getting worse. I thought next that I needed to slow the
reaction down and decided cold water might help. Foam streamed out the spray nozzle and the
bottom of the bottle looked ready to burst from pressure.
I considered the pipe bomb I
held in my hands under the tap of my kitchen sink and decided if the bottle
ruptured, containment would best be accomplished where the solution would
eventually be applied: the bathtub. So I
rinsed out the plastic green bowl which had held our dinner’s coleslaw, and
thought to carry this spewing, pressurized cannon upstairs to the dirty
tub. Like it was connected to a
compressor with a switch opened up, frothy liquid spewed out the spray
nozzle. I directed the nozzle to the
walls of the shower and tub, drawing full squiggly lines of foamy
solution. When the tub was coated, I
moved to the sink and then the toilet bowl.
When all the dirty surfaces were coated, I set the bottle back in the
tub while I started scrubbing the bubbles around. I cleaned and rinsed and rinsed and rinsed
the surfaces. Then I rinsed some
more. The bottle continued to ooze, but
with less enthusiasm.
With more cleanser coming out, and no new places to apply
the solution, I moved, green bowl in hand, to the master bath. Exiting the main bathroom, I realized for the
first time that I had left the kitchen sink on full blast in my haste to
contain. I laughed to admit things were a bit crazy.
I have to consider what was
really accomplished here. My intention
was to make it easier for my children to complete their house chores in the bathrooms. No doubt, the bathrooms are cleaner. Certainly, I gained some useful
knowledge. And I have a story. But I don’t have much solution in the
bottle. Having never pulled the trigger,
the bottle is ¾ empty.
Sometimes life is just like that
isn’t it? You know something. But then you think you have more information
which puts your old ideas in conflict with new knowledge. When crisis hits, though, what you know is what
sits at the very core of your being: pure knowledge.
I have never been in crisis
where I have not come to know that God knows where I am and is reaching to
me. One time I prayed for help instantly,
confessing that I didn’t have the strength to react to a conflict
constructively. The doorbell rang and an
angel pulled me from my knees to save the moment. Another time a phone call interrupted solitary
grief. Someone showed up in the very
moment I needed them, though minutes before I could not have arranged for their
assistance because I didn’t know I would require it. My Relief Society president stopped me on my way
into the church, not knowing from me that I had poured out my heart to God that
morning that I needed visiting teachers who came every month and whose love
could help me carry my burdens. But here
she stood telling me that she had just made a change and she knew these new
teachers would be just what I needed. A
song played with lyrics which assured me that I did have the faith I needed to
walk on the water I was bidden to walk upon.
A childhood friend called from a faraway hometown only once, but in the
very moment I stepped into the house broken-hearted that my newest friend didn’t
want to be my friend anymore and would make sure no one else did either.
These are the tender mercies of
God. These are the things which whisper
to my core that I am a known, loved, worthy daughter of God. These are the things I know when other things
don’t make sense. The feeling I get when
I think on them is consistent with the feelings that come as I ponder the
principles of the restored gospel of Jesus Christ. It is true and it blesses lives. Thank you for dedicating your time and energy
to sharing it.
Love,
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