I woke up possessed by a cleaning demon. Unable to exorcise it, I began to unclutter my sleeping chambers. During that process, I laundered several articles, including clothing, my pink sheets and zebra pillow cases, my blanket and (this is where the trouble began) the two little area rugs that sit outside of my bathroom door. The demon was in full force and effect.
After the major tasks were completed in my bedroom, I moved on to the demon’s next target: the MoMo-mobile. Once that was done, I opened the washing machine door only to find that one of the stupid little area rugs was not machine-wash friendly. Admittedly, I’m not the best at using washing machines, microwaves or toasters. The bottom of the rug had come apart, leaving behind particles of plastic or whateverf it is made of. Because of its reaction to the washer, I dared not put it in the dryer. Instead, I placed it outside.
The demon moved me back up to my bedroom to clean the bathroom. I shifted the position of the apparatus that houses the various hair products and body washes next to the tub. Annoyingly, I discovered there had been two leaks. In order to remove the residue, I had to enlist the help of Goof Off. That stuff is fucking amazing. Seriously. But, beware, it is not effective on painted walls as it eats through the paint (yeah, I learned from experience). I had a huge spray bottle of this miracle remover resident in my bathroom for such heavy duty jobs. In order to effectively deal with the goo, I had to displace everything else that was on the bathroom floor. So, I moved two floor mats to my bedroom carpet just outside of the bathroom. I also relocated a wax warmer, containing hot wax, to the carpet. I looked at the wax warmer and thought, “It would be a real bitch and half if that spills on my precious pink carpeting. But, I’m not that clumsy and as soon as I finish eliminating the goo, I’ll bring it right back in.”
Finally, after several minutes of intense scrubbing, the bathroom floor sparkled. I was nearly done with the entire cleaning process, or so I thought. The demon had not had its fill of tidying. It overwhelmed me with the urge to vacuum the floor mats that had been in the bathroom. I carelessly grabbed the first one and put it flat on the carpet. I ran the vacuum over it. I reached to grab the second one. My eyes caught sight of something foreign on the floor mat. My brain quickly processed what this foreign substance was: the wax!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Had it fallen only on the floor mat? No!!! The fucking wax was all over my pink carpet. I was horrified. My worst cleaning nightmare had come true. Most of you likely do not know the pain of cleaning this type of wax, particularly from carpeting. (It’s a lot tougher to remove than candle wax.) This was truly a disaster. I panicked. Not knowing what else to do, I attempted to spray it with Goof Off, praying that the spraying would not discolor the carpet. I put my index finger on the nozzle hoping that the outcoming solvent would work its miracles. To my dismay the mist wasn’t outcoming. As if evilly orchestrated, I had used the last of the Goo Off mere moments before the wax spill. I grew anxious. I quickly collected with a paper towel the top layer of wax without spreading it. This exercise left my hands sticky, very sticky.
I figured I had to make an emergency trip to the ugly orange store, Home Depot. But, my hair wasn’t done and I wasn’t appropriately attired. I couldn’t function with my hands though because my fingers were stuck together. I decided I’d put a hat on my head and wear a long coat to cover my sweats. (I NEVER leave the house in sweats unless I’m going to the gym, which is almost never.) I tried on my Cookie Monster baseball cap, but decided that the Cookie Monster’s crazy eyes resting on top of my cranium drew too much attention to me, which I didn’t want given that I was sporting the Hobo-MoMo-wax-hands look. I found a different hat, put it on my head and went downstairs.
Before departing for the Home Depot, I decided to Google the solution to removing wax from carpet. Surprisingly, after typing in the first two words (“getting wax”), the autofill suggestion was “getting wax out of carpet.” It’s nice to know that I’m not the only dumbass plagued with such problems. I carefully clicked on the first link (because, remember, my hands were still wax covered at this point). I read the first few sentences.
You spilled some wax, and it’s not even your carpet. Whether from burning candles or making your own lip balm, getting wax on the rug is a major bummer. Plus it means someone’s going to be pretty ticked at you, and you definitely won’t be getting your deposit back.
Maybe you’ve tried scraping, soaking, or even cutting out the offending wax stain. But I’m here to show you a much faster, simpler, gentler way to treat your wax-soaked fibers.
And yeah, this works with your clothes too!
The suspense was killing me. I just wanted to know how to get this crap off of my carpet. I didn’t need build up beyond what was awaiting me upstairs. Finally, the site provided the information I sought.
To tackle this wax, we need some serious artillery!
That whole webpage should consist only of that one sentence followed by the list of two items. I quickly secured an iron and went back to the scene of the crime. I was hesitant about this operation because I wasn’t sure if I would somehow set the paper towels ablaze with the iron. I kept a cup of water nearby just in case. Safety first. Midway into my floor ironing, I went downstairs to get another roll of paper towels and to dispose of the first batch of towels in the garbage receptacle outside. I discovered the it was raining…on the rug that I had left out to dry. This rug is the root of all evil. First, had I not moved it from its place, the wax would have spilled onto it and not my carpet. Second, I had to clean up after the mess the rug created in the washer. And, third, in an attempt to accommodate this devilish rug and save it from further destruction, I left it outside to dry only to find this unexpected rainfall foiling my plan. No good deed goes unpunished.
For the next hour and a half, I ironed the floor.