I am bleaching rubber duckies. Long ago, in a life far away, I gave Mr. Omegamom a rubber ducky for his birthday on the very first one we shared. I also gave him a little Wee Pals type tug boat with a captain and a real anchor (woohoo!) plus an armload full of purple daisies. I did not realize that Mr. Omegamom was a somewhat obsessive type, or I would have given him chocolate truffles. At least then I would have benefitted. We now have around 100 rubber duckies in the house. They were ostensibly purchased for The Dotter-to-be and The Dotter-that-is. I know better. Mr. Omegamom knows better. Even The Dotter knows better. Those ducks, nominally belonging to The Dotter, are the joy and delight of Mr. Omegamom. He daydreams about redecorating his bathroom so that he has shelves to display his duckies. One time my dad, upon going into the Shrine of The Duckies (oops. That would be the bathroom all guests use) was rather disturbed, and emerged with wry commentary that, boiled down, said that Mr. Omegamom could sometimes be a bit of a kook. Anyway, the ducks have bathed with The Dotter many, many times. Mr. Omegamom, though a wonderful husband and father, lacks a few more housecleaning genes than I do. I leave his bathroom (TSOTD) alone, as I find it rather gross sometimes. But it also happens to be The Dotter's bathatorium, mostly, and the ducks get variously dunked, squished, submerged, transformed into Willies (whales) or NayNays (horses). The ducks are left, post-bath, filled with water. Mr. Omegamom, being on the verge of a business trip, did what any sane businessman on the verge of a business trip does: yesterday, he went on a cleaning rampage. I leave Mr. Omegamom severely alone when this happens, as his philosophy is "Chemicals. Making Life Better." and he bombs the bathroom with various mixtures of Windex, Clorox, Tilex, and other noxious chemicals. He also believes that if a little bit of a chemical helps, then a Whole Lot of said chemical should help a Whole Lot. It's logical, no? Anyway, he always emerges with a blasting headache, and if you open the door to the bathroom, it smells like a hospital. In the midst of all this, he loaded up the dishwasher with rubber duckies. This is good. However, some of the rubber duckies, alas, have begun to grow interesting green scum inside. Thus, after hauling Mr. Omegamom to his office at 7 a.m. so he could get his work truck to haul himself down to The Big City to catch an airplane, The Dotter and I were left to our own devices. I thought I'd try some bleach. Maybe I'll write about Beauty, Order and Chaos in my next entry. Categories: [Mr. OmegaMom] [This 'n That]