If you didn't know,Padre and his ancestors are cleaning coniseurs. So you can imagine the intimidation a consultant for a company touting a wash rag, that only needs water and a football field's length of silver to pull the bacteria into its micro-fiber fabulousness, felt while trying to sell the whole concept.
The put together gal selling the rags gave a great presentation but received more instruction from my family on cleaning ideas which, unfortunately, involve water! And a whole lot more adding a billion steps compared to the miraculous rag. I felt bad for the poor lady- trying to repeat over and over the beauty of the rag; rubbing butter on my Aunt's T.V. and wiping it off- leaving no streaks and other miracles. It just would not be a concept our family could wrap their minds around in this life time.
I have to admit it seems almost too good to be true. But I love the rags because it takes a million steps out of the cleaning process.
So recall my pic the other day of the apple?
It was fabricated. A fake apple. Me trying to re-create Christmas Eve. I cleaned off the counter to set up the picture take for the blog. But I used the MINT colored rag.
If Padre knew he'd flip. Thankfully Madre caught me using it and said it was the rag designated for the bathroom. Before Gma is hauled off to the hospital I want her to know the rag was just washed, Madre caught the infringement while it was taking placde and we pulled out the big guns.
(i.e. clorox and normal rags.) This seemed funnier the other day. But not after we've had the flu.
And this just gives Padre more ammo as to why the rags are the germ culprite.
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