Today I was thinking about the time when I was living by myself, in 2008. It was before I met DH, and I had a few friends, and many more acquaintances, only two of whom I allowed to know where I live, much less what town I lived in, for long complicated reasons. So, basically only my social worker, AW, and AG knew where I lived. (After I came out to AW I found out she not only outed me to my mom, my mom's friends, AW's friends, and even AW's grandma, but years later I found out she also gave my address to someone who didn't have my permission to know where I lived.)
I always picked one day out of the weekend to clean my house from top to bottom. I cleaned everything on weekends, and cleaned every day throughout the week. You could eat off my bathroom floor, because it was always immaculate. Though you would look kind of silly eating off the bathroom floor, so I don't actually recommend it.
One day I was cleaning the bathroom, really scrubbing it down, when I mixed a cleaner that I knew had ammonia in it, with what I was sure did not have bleach in it. It wasn't long until I figured it out, but by then I was really ill. I found myself crumpled on the living room floor, barely conscious and terrified. I was only about five feet from the door, but I wasn't sure if I could get there. The thing that kept me going, as I scooted my body across the floor was the thought that no one would find my body for a week (it was summertime) and I would be a stinking carcass by then. The thought of me being found rotting and stinking was the one thing that kept me going. Needless to say, I made it to the door, and crawled out onto the front steps. Once I started getting fresh air I started feeling better, but I was shaking like hell. I wasn't sure if the shaking was from the anxiety of the whole experience, or residual effects of being in a house filled with mustard gas. It was really scary.
What did I learn from this experience? Before you let two cleaners mix, read the damn bottle, because there might be ingredients you don't know about!
I always picked one day out of the weekend to clean my house from top to bottom. I cleaned everything on weekends, and cleaned every day throughout the week. You could eat off my bathroom floor, because it was always immaculate. Though you would look kind of silly eating off the bathroom floor, so I don't actually recommend it.
One day I was cleaning the bathroom, really scrubbing it down, when I mixed a cleaner that I knew had ammonia in it, with what I was sure did not have bleach in it. It wasn't long until I figured it out, but by then I was really ill. I found myself crumpled on the living room floor, barely conscious and terrified. I was only about five feet from the door, but I wasn't sure if I could get there. The thing that kept me going, as I scooted my body across the floor was the thought that no one would find my body for a week (it was summertime) and I would be a stinking carcass by then. The thought of me being found rotting and stinking was the one thing that kept me going. Needless to say, I made it to the door, and crawled out onto the front steps. Once I started getting fresh air I started feeling better, but I was shaking like hell. I wasn't sure if the shaking was from the anxiety of the whole experience, or residual effects of being in a house filled with mustard gas. It was really scary.
What did I learn from this experience? Before you let two cleaners mix, read the damn bottle, because there might be ingredients you don't know about!
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