These words, or the lack of reading them and what followed, almost made me the next candidate for the infamous Darwin Awards. Let's go back to the beginning, shall we.
We have a newly remodeled house with gleaming glass shower doors. Recently I noticed that nasty cloudy buildup slowly taking shape, that if not subdued requires a jackhammer to remove from the glass. Concurrently I bought some toilet bowl cleaner on sale that claimed to clean calcium deposits from the porcelain. Worked like a charm under the rim, so I thought to myself, Self, you should try that on the shower door glass.
I had a red flag wave before my eyes with the words "Read the DIRECTIONS FOR USE before proceeding." Well, that was a few days before the incident. But instead of reading the directions, I opted to make my adventure a reality. I talked myself into getting into the shower and beginning the big dig as soon as possible because I just felt like it would be a great idea. I didn't know for sure for I had not done my due diligence before proceeding. [Almost] famous last words.
I began by methodically measuring 1/4 cup of blue goo into an old plastic measuring cup. I then added 3/4 cup water. Gingerly stepping into the shower I used an old toothbrush to "paint" the areas of interest on the shower door with my magic potion.
I then had a thought as I was humming and brushing away, What if this stuff gets on my toes? Will it make them disappear the way it did the cement-like stuff in the toilet bowl? At the same time I began feeling as if I had been put into a large jar of mint mouthwash like one of those old 1960s TV shows where normal sized people end up in the land of giants and find telephones the size of their beds and gigantic drinking glasses that might be used to imprison the tiny intruder. My eyes started tingling and the tip of my tongue felt funny. The common sense that I had suppressed slowly emerged and I quickly jumped out of the shower.
Grabbing the toilet bowl cleaner I fumbled for my reading glasses. "DANGER: CORROSIVE," and then a little further down, "Contains hydrochloric acid." Okay, Houston, we've had a problem here! I then saw a second red flag billowing at the words, "FIRST AID," list. When there is more than one category under First Aid, one should run from the product. But one should definitely make haste out of the house when there are four categories; "For Eyes, If on Skin or Clothing, If Swallowed, If Inhaled."
Let me summarize the horrors. For Eyes, rinse eyes for 15-20 minutes and "Call a Poison Control Center or doctor for treatment advice." For Skin and Clothing, shed everything and burn*, but since you can't shed your skin, "Call a Poison Control Center or doctor for treatment advice." If Swallowed, "Call a Poison Control Center or doctor for treatment advice," was the first line followed by advice if one could still swallow. Last but not least, If Inhaled, run outside if you can still breathe deeply and, yes, "Call a Poison Control Center or doctor for treatment advice."
I turned on the shower full force and shot it towards the door. I had visions of John coming in and finding me passed out next to the unclean shower.
After 30 minutes of rinsing and scrubbing the shower with common soap and water and knowing I was miraculously spared from having my family accept my dubious award on behalf of my posthumous self, I breathed a sigh of relief. No sooner had I caught my breath I heard John walking through the front door.
I met him at the door and apprised him of the near tragedy. I got a big hug from my understanding mate as if I had discovered gold upon pushing the "flush" button. I think he was just happy not to have to cook dinner that night, to be honest with you. We walked straight to the bathroom to forensically inspect the scene of the crime.
John stepped inside, sniffed and looked toward the shower door, "Wow," he exclaimed with Christmas-like excitement, "What a great looking shower door!"
*Paraphrase, not actual quote
