While The Good Housewife Project doesn’t actually start until Monday, I had some time today, and since I have company coming at the end of the month, I’d better get to cleaning when and where I can. I’m not going wild though– the experiment hasn’t started, and no one is making breakfast for anyone yet. That’d just be craaaaaaazy.
It strikes me that housewives of olden days seemed to be able to make whites whiter, brights brighter, wood surfaces gleam and floors sparkle in a way that I have never figured out. Maybe it’s that those homemakers just had better cleaning and laundry products than I do, because it’s not at all that they worked a whole lot harder than I do at homemaking. Just kidding, they totally worked harder. But, since I have acquired some retro cleaning products, let’s give them a try anyway, shall we?
First up in this series is Murphy’s Oil Soap. I think I got mine at Target, but I’m sure it’s available pretty much in every cleaning aisle, everywhere.
Murphy’s AND a gold flecked formica backsplash in one photo? All I need is a healthy phobia of communism, and I’d swear I’ve invented time travel.
I’d never, to my knowledge, used Murphy Oil Soap. I knew it existed of course, but I always figured that it was for people who actually cared about the gleaminess of their wood furnishings.
I opened the bottle carefully. Because I sort of paid attention in Mr. S’s high school chemistry class, I knew better than to stick my nose over the bottle and breathe in deeply, and wafted the scent towards my delicate little nose instead.
The scent was sort of…. lemony? Ish? I couldn’t really place where I had smelled this particular smell before, but I knew that I had.
Then it hit me, and I bellowed in a ladylike way for Johnny Rotten to come here RIGHT NOW. He came running out of the bedroom, probably thinking that I had injured myself again. He saw me standing there, very uninjured and holding a bottle of cleaner with a confused look on my face.
“Hey, um, does this smell like….church…. to you?”
He stuck his nose over the bottle and breathed in deeply, because he obviously didn’t have Mr. S as a chemistry teacher, and wrinkled his nose.
“Yeah. That’s church. In a bottle. Can I please go now?”
He wandered off, leaving me to my elation and my scrubbing. See, I figure that the ladies in churches probably have many talents, but they seem to be world class pros at two things: potluck food, and cleaning. Finding a church worthy cleaning product was guaranteed to be as good as finding a church fundraiser cookbook. There’s a reason why “Edna Mae’s Perfectly Mediocre Apple Pie” is never featured. It’s always “Edna Mae’s World Famous Apple Pie” or something. It’s all about reputation. Cleaning products should be the same, I reasoned. If it’s good enough for their gleamy needs, it’ll definitely be good enough for me and my dull, fingerprinted wood items.
Holy cow, yeah. After using it, I’m a believer. It took off all dustiness and fingerprints, and wasn’t strong smelling or harsh on my skin while I was cleaning. Once I finish this bottle, I will be purchasing it again. It’s good stuff, and after getting used to the smell, I quite like it. It’s clean and nostalgic.
Verdict: Murphy’s Oil Soap has been around for more than a century, and for good reason. It’s a winner.
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