Show Me The Money

Apparently, my cleaning skills at half-past midnight are not top-notch.  The day after Thanksgiving, the entire bathroom smelled unmistakably like puke, thanks to Susie's overindulgence the day before. It reminded me of my freshman year dorm on Sunday mornings, when the odor of regurgitated beer and pizza filled the air.  In desperation, on Saturday I went to PetCo and picked up this remarkable product:

An essential part of any parent's toolkit....

Yes, this is my new friend.  I SOAKED the affected areas (sink counter, wooden vanity, wall, heating duct, and Little Tykes step stool) with this stuff before I went to bed.  The next morning, miracle of miracles, only a faint smell of pumpkin pie barf still lingered.

Pumpkin Pie Barf - new flavor coming soon to a Starbucks near you...you're welcome.

The cashier at Petco said it worked really well for her also, on the unfortunate occasion when her son spilled milk under the couch and left it. And no, it hasn't escaped me that we both shopped at a pet supply store for cleaning supplies to deal with our kids' messes. It would appear that children are nothing but glorified pets, after all, aside from that whole college tuition thing.

Speaking of which, David has been applying to colleges, which activity always makes for a fun holiday season. Luckily, a couple of the schools have not required essays. Either they have finally realized what a bunch of BS the college-application essay is, or else they take anyone who can fill out a basic form. "Are these places accredited?" I asked, concerned enough about the lack of essays and the comparatively low application fee to put down the scarf I was working on.

"Of course," David said. "They DO ask for my transcripts and my scores, you know."

"I know," I said, "but maybe they just do that for show? What is their acceptance rate, anyway?"

"I think it's about 75%, actually."

"Is that higher than normal? Is this a real school?"

"Well, it looks like one on the website. See, look, there's a quad with a bunch of students walking together and carrying books."

I squinted at the screen. "Are we sure they aren't just actors?"

"I don't know," said David, "but I do know the school offers free tuition and room and board to anyone with test scores like mine."

"Really? Well, then, that sounds real enough to me," I said, returning to my knitting.

I do hope no one reads this blog for a rigorous analysis of the relative merits of various institutions of higher learning.  Around here, we're all about the money.