Dear Little Plastic Bowl,
Just a note to let you know, I have decided you are fine as you are.
Yes, you are stained, and yes I *could* clean you until you were discolored no more. I briefly considered scrubbing you with a Brillo pad, and leaving you to soak with bleach so you would be free of that red-orange hue.
Ah, but bowl, I have come up against my perfectionist tendencies before, and I know the crazy, Windex-streaked path that can lead down.
So, for today, I will let you be.
You still function perfectly well; you are everything a bowl needs to be - round, deep, the perfect size to hold soup and, apparently, Beefaroni. (Or maybe that's spaghetti leftovers.) You are one of the boys' favorites, and I'm sure you'll be with us for quite a while. You do not need to be perfectly clear to be well-loved. Your colorful sides will serve to remind us of meals happily eaten. And, if you were clear, you would be but one of a million bowls in homes and
I know myself, and I would spend upwards of a half hour ridding you of every! last! spot! no matter what it took! to the exclusion of all else, while the rest of the dishes sat undone, dishwater growing cold, with me, irritated at interruptions to my single-minded quest. Instead, I'm doing the rest of the dishes, putting you all away cozy in your cabinets, and spending time with my guys.
I know you'll grow to appreciate your new/old look.
p.s. Tell your friend, the copper-bottomed pot, that our appointment with the Bon-Ami is canceled.