When the fungal growth begins the insults relating to how long it’s been since you last shaved, it’s time.

Psst. I have something to tell you, and a question.

*waving you in this direction*

Come closer. I’ll tell you.

No, closer. I’m going to whisper, and you need to be really close to hear.

Okay, ready?

I scrubbed my shower yesterday.

*looking around and over shoulder*

It was time.

*biting lip*

You know, *cough* Spring cleaning and all.

I mean… uh, not that I don’t regularly clean my shower. Heh. Yeah, not like that’s the case.

*fidgeting*

So, uh, you know… I clean my shower, you know… as often as you clean yours.

*leaning in*

*expectant*

How often would you say that you do that, anyway?

Not that I’m gauging my own level of disgusting neglect by what YOU do or anything.

Nope, not at all.

*whistling*

*still eyeballing you; waiting*

When toddlers pee in anger.

A poem for my living room carpet:

They said you were dirty
but what did they know
I’ve cared for you plenty
and boy does it show

You’re not even black yet
just a dingy grey
I swore that I’d steam you
one of these days

Then a cranky toddler
had fits he did throw
got time out, and got back
at Mom with Pee Shows.

Oh carpet, it soaked in
and I waited too long
I steamed you last night
now you smell like burnt schlong (??? sorry, it rhymed)

Another Mom Lesson
with answers you seek:
don’t let it soak in! when
you do clean, it REEKS.