Magic Eraser

After seeing countless airings of commercials featuring sidelined cleaning products giving a play by play of the amazing Mr. Clean Magic Eraser (and worrying their own positions are in jeopardy), I caved and bought a box. It's not that the commercials are particularly inspiring, thought provoking or entertaining that a race to the store was in order -- I find them annoying. Somehow, however, the message evidently penetrated my cocoon of cynicism, as I ultimately forked out the dough for the product. Chances are good I also had a coupon.

For the best ha ha factor in cleaning product commercials, I nominate the Bona floor cleaning ad. I still remember the first time I saw that commercial. It was November 2011 and I was laid up on the couch with my broken leg, underdosing on pain pills and overdosing on movies on Lifetime Movie Network and Hallmark Channel. That first time I saw the commercial I was a bit afraid that maybe I'd accidentally lost track, doubled up on meds and was imagining things. Really funny things.

The commercial itself was an ordinary floor cleaner spot -- expanses of wood floor, a mop, cleaner. Nothing special until the end of the spot when the announcer said, "Bona. When the wood matters." I couldn't believe I'd heard that, and almost wrote it off as suffering a side effect of Hydrocodone. It felt like the Saturday Night Live fake commercials of the 70s and 80s where you were never quite sure it was a skit or a legitimate commercial. A quick check online confirmed it was a legitimate company and product. The 12 year old that has permanent residence in my head began attaching the tagline to other commercials and crafting patchwork ads. Like "Cialis -- Chubb Insurance -- When the wood really matters."

The Mr. Clean Magic Eraser talking spray bottles commercial is no "Bona. When the wood matters" attention grabber, but the product was bought, and sat under the sink until one day, in a cleaning frenzy, I finally realized the magic it contained.

After previous effort with glass cleaner that just complicated the messes on the glass doors of the toaster oven and the microwave, I checked under the sink for a bigger gun. And there was Mr. Clean and his eraser blocks. And dang, if it didn't work better than anything I've ever used. I was inspired to keep cleaning -- the window in the oven door, the faucet, the shelves in the refrigerator.

That crazy little eraser block was amazing. My stuff looked brand new. It was like an 'Undo' command for the kitchen, which got me wishing it could do the same for life's intangibles. Say something stupid to make someone else feel bad? Magic Eraser and undone. Royally eff things up at work? Boom! Magic Eraser! Regretting that special "one that got away?" and wanting to undo a breakup? Magic Eraser!

If only there really were such a thing. Sigh.