The Magic of Hydrogen Peroxide

I arrived at my parents’ house late on Friday night, and found Daddy in bed and Mother conked out on the couch. By that point I hadn’t showered in a couple days – despite having gone for two jogs, one of them in the rain. Mother’s Westie Obi lay across her torso, while Daddy’s Scottie Winston snoozed in his dog bed, sporting an emasculating pink- and brown-spotted diaper – Mother’s latest attempt to potty train him. The effort proved useless. When I sauntered to my childhood bedroom around midnight, I pulled back the purple comforter and discovered a huge wet circle saturating the sheets and mattress. The diaper doesn’t even cover Winston’s penis. With his wang hanging out, he had sprinted down the hall and peed on my bed. Not that it mattered. Urine only would have enhanced my array of bodily fragrances. I’m glad I helped Mother discover that she needs to purchase diapers in a larger size. I do what I can.

Before Mother and I stumbled to our respective rooms (clearly I slept in Timber’s bed that night), we engaged in incoherent conversation. At one point I curled up with her on the sofa and wept about how much Alzheimer’s sucks. In the midst of my diatribe, she pulled out The Magic of Hydrogen Peroxide, a low quality produced book by Emily Thacker. Hot pink Post-It notes protruded from the pages she had saved.

“Why do you have that?” I asked, rubbing my eyes.

“Because I wanted it. I ordered it.”

“That is the crappiest-looking book.”

“‘Rid yourself of unsightly yellow nail fungus by soaking fingernails or toenails in a pan of water and hydrogen peroxide,'” she read aloud. “I might do that before toenail-painting season starts!!!”

“It’s not fucking fair,” I wallowed in self-pity.

“‘Clean between toes to rid feet of athlete’s foot by blotting with a cottonball or soft cloth doused in hydrogen peroxide. Allow toes and feet to air dry completely before putting on shoes or socks.'”

“Wow. It’s like the author assumes you’re retarded. Do you want to see a picture of my wedding dress?” I opened my laptop and showed her images of the shift at varying angles and on different models, turning the screen like a steering wheel.

“Now that’s pretty,” she trailed off, flipping pages. “Ooo, you’ll like this one. ‘Rid the kitty litter box of that lingering smell by cleaning with hydrogen peroxide. Empty litter from box and spray bottom with hydrogen peroxide. Rinse out with garden hose and wipe clean. Be sure and clean your cat’s litter scoop by soaking in hydrogen peroxide as well!!!'”

“We need to send our Save the Date postcards soon.”

“Uh-huh. ‘Blotches left on the skin from self-tanning solution can be easily and quickly evened out and removed. Dip a cotton ball in hydrogen peroxide and wipe on the over-colored area. Leave on for 15-20 seconds and wipe clean with a second ball or tissue.'”

“I wasn’t aware of hydrogen peroxide’s multitudinous uses.”

“You’re making fun of me.”

Emily Thacker’s book makes it sound like hydrogen peroxide can alleviate many ailments. But until Daddy can douse his brain in a solution of water and hydrogen peroxide and be cured, I won’t call it magic. At least it will help me get ready for toenail-painting season.