Soap stories

I don’t quite know how these things creep into my house.
Mint-flavoured dish washing liquid.
Floral-scented toilet cleaner.
Pina-colada-fragranced room freshner.

I ask for cleaning liquids. Plain, garden-variety, run-of-the-mill, common place or as my friends in marketing, who speak a strange dialect, would say, plain vanilla flavour. But instead of heavy-duty liquids that will blitz grease, germs and odor, my grocer sends home colourful bottles with an identity crisis and cleaning liquids that are about as benign as orange juice.

I ask for very little in liquid soaps and cleaners -- that they clean and don’t remind me of things I’d like to eat. I don’t think I can ever have a mint and chocolate chip ice cream without thinking of dirty dishes in my sink, thanks to that minty dishwashing liquid.
A girl’s night out in future will never feature a pina colada.
We can just forget about a walk in the botanical gardens with my stomach starting a Pavlovian roil. Thank you very much Harpic Floral!