Recently, I have learned a terrible thing about myself. It is shameful, embarrassing, and much, much worse than my theory that Predator is one of the great gay strip tease films of our time.

I have learned that I am susceptible to cleaning commercials.

Yes.

Cleaning commercials.

The moment I see a cleaning commercial that promises more cleaning for less effort, I am all eyes and all ears. Not only do I stop doing other things ("Look, a spray that will remove the skill off children--that has to mean less work!") but I become a believer. Religion? I don't have time for that. Science? Sounds good. Could you dumb it down for me? Nationality? Well, we all live on the same planet, don't we. But a cleaning agent that does twice the work with five times less effort than I usually put in, and which practically means simply owning the bottle will mean that, during the night, cleaning gnomes appear and do all the work?

Sign me the fuck up.

The true problem is I worry where this will take me.

"Hello, sir. Have you heard about our new plan to bath entire houses in bleach?"

"No, but I can say it sounds kinda st--"

"Before you finish that, let me assure you that one bleach bath will mean no cleaning for a decade on your part."

"Including dusting?"

It can only end badly from here.