*sigh*
I have met my match in this new apartment. This foe met me head-on in my personal sanctuary- the kitchen. My cute,little, pink-tiled kitchen. This evil has taken the shape of skid marks from my pots and pans, horribly defacing my ceramic 1950s sink.
Being a part-time Stepford Wife, my arsenal is small, but these pan-scratchings have bested them all: scour sponge, nylon scourer, steel pad, soap, hot water, even vinegar. It breaks my heart every time I wash dishes, seeing those dark, irregular lines. All I've managed to do is blur a few.
They sit there, looking so smug, daring me to run out and buy some Comet.
So, if that's the way the game is played, then all I have to say is, "Game On, Mofo!!"
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