closet poo

So today, I’m cleaning the last of the closets. The floors are completely nasty, as if no one’s cleaned them since they were installed 50 years ago. One was especially bad with some sticky thick brown goo that just wouldn't scrape away. I soon realized that the brown goo covered about 80% of the closet floor, and the thought of trying to scrape away all that goo completed grossed me out. I joked to Sean that we should just strip away the tiles instead of cleaning them. We wanted to do that down the road ("phase 5" of my 9-phase plan) but he replied, "Okay!" Before either of us could change our mind, we'd peeled away the first tile. So much for the list and phases!

Halfway through the peeling, Sean said "eewwww... I got closet poo on my hands." Some other brown goo, maybe the glue they used for the tiles, was still sticky after 50 years and had the surprising consistency of poo. With every poo tile we threw away, we felt more and more relieved. Of course, for the rest of night, we made reference to poo like every 5 minutes: "Sean, you got closet poo on the bathroom faucets!" "Sean, you got closet poo on your pants!"