By: Martina Celegato
Submitted: 2009-07-23 09:39:56 | Word Count: 463
Products to clean our house and ourselves already abound, they flood over on the shelves, come out from every corner of our houses. Every good housewife is obliged to clean the floor at least once a day.
Right this morning, together with many other good ladies, all very experts in housework, I went to the surreal and mysterious world of large-scale retail trade to stock up various products, foodstuffs or not . and it is exactly the not-foodstuffs that sometimes make rise the budget of every sane housewife. But among this products, a special place, without guilt or hesitation, have to be assigned to His Majesty the Detergent, (for the bathroom, for dishes, for the dishwashing machine, for the washing machine, softener, detergent, stain remover, bleach, blackener). All these that are associated to the idea of clean is by we, housewives like it or not, seen with joy and jubilation. Here it is finally concretized our dream: cleaning, bleaching, disinfecting, scraping.
[ advertisement ]
Yes, because it seems impossible now in the third millennium, but having some strange mixture, a liquid that, very quickly cleans up our world is still the ultimate dream of every woman. Not the master degree, wonderful careers, children, lovers, an slim and enviable shape, not at all. Our submerged Ego tirelessly brings us to the detergent department. Give me a detergent and I will save the world! Here our motto! With a detergent in one hand we can feel more powerful, able to clean even dirtiest stains and consciences. Ah, if only we could clean up the mafia with a lot of bleach we would be immediately ready.
And so, after having well-scoured all departments with conscientious care, with meticulous pique, after having stock up so many detergents that they would be enough to clean up all the Empire State Building, I have realized that I'm looking around with dissatisfaction, ill-concealed irritation, my antennae are alerted by something wrong, something that should not be there. And that is because, I notice that the floor of the supermarket is not really very clean, really not clean at all, just at the limit of bearable. That is a clear outrage to our cleaner spirit, the only spirit that still does not succumb to the today advertising, that would want us to be alien to the house cleaning, now almost always a prerogative of mercenary people who cannot distinguish a softener from a disinfectant, when not even left to men, newly redeemed to home-cleaning, and rather involved in beautifying our body, losing weight or toning it up.
