I really should have taken a before and after picture.
As a mother of three, I’ve had more than a few of those heart-sinking moments when you witness something expensive get ruined right before your eyes. Take, for example, light beige wall to wall bedroom carpet, your charming youngest son, and really awesome neon green slime he got as a gift from somebody we’re obviously no longer friends with.
Say some of that slime falls out of the jar onto the carpet in not one, but two places underneath some furniture and you don’t notice it until it’s good and dry, sunk deep into the fibers. Contoured slime, like the fibers in the rug. A work of art, really.
Because, of course, that’s what would happen when you can’t watch his every move 24 x 7. And whilst he be charming, he’s a sneaky one.
Your heart sinks. You call the carpet guys – you know, the ones that specialize in homicide cleanup – and they won’t touch it with a ten foot pole. You figure your only option is to replace the carpet.
And that brings joy, because we’re independently wealthy and all.
Say you let, oh I don’t know, one, two, maybe even three years go by. You feel defeated every time you enter that kid’s room. You tell yourself, it’s a mark of childhood, adds character to the room. Louie Lodge is LIVED IN, don’t ya know.
And then it finally hits you, after several weeks in a pandemic-induced home-bound stupor, to Google it. Surely some other mother has faced this battle and emerged victorious.
Holy smokes, peeps: hot water and vinegar in a 1:3 ratio does the trick. I didn’t even bother moving the furniture, I just used a wet washcloth and rubbed until it was gone. It didn’t even stain. Petrified, neon-green slime.
Mama Louie loves the Google.