stop dead in your tracks, y'all. i found the fountain of youth. for carpets. the fountain of youth for carpets. and they said it couldn't be done.
you know that constant back-of-the-mind fear that someone will come into your home-full-of-little-kids with a blacklight and be all, WHAT THE WHAT HAPPENED IN HERE?!? and then you'll naturally be held for questioning because, good gracious, something criminal must have happened. it's insane the number and amount and variety and coverage of what-have-yous that end up everywhere. which is why this folex stuff makes me want to knit it a sweater and fry it some chicken and speak soothingly to it. (out of love, get it? those are the kinds of things you do for the ones you love and i'm not a weirdo.)
in the last month alone, it has gotten milk, blood, olive oil, balsamic vinegar, jolly rancher-dyed saliva, and week-old coffee stains out of my rugs, including the white-colored part of my living room rug. i'm not kidding. this stuff appears to be made of the tears of joyful angels and the bottled voice of josh groban. (seems like a simple enough recipe, considering all the drama that's gone down over the years in trying to find the fountain of youth. people of yore should have taken a chill pill and just waited for josh groban to be born.)
and it's not like, in order to obtain it, you have to order it online or pray for it to rain down from the heavens. it's at lowe's. in the cleaning aisle, next to all the normal, run-of-the-mill, B-average cleaners. it's hidden in there super well, wearing a super boring bottle, and you don't even realize what a gem you're staring at. it's like if you were at the park and you saw that guy from walmart across the way, and then you were like, what's up guy? and then you were all, wait! that's not that guy from walmart, that's mila kunis wearing normal-people jeans! and then you'd be all like, i really respect her for showing up at the mt. pleasant park in normal-people jeans, and then you'd try to be her best friend.
what i'm trying to say is that it may look like a deadbeat, but folex is the best thing that happened to me after proving itself during the Bleeding-From-the-Mouth Fiasco of April 2014. and that alone makes me want to be besties with it and read it bedtime stories.
(i will also tell you it's entirely nontoxic, it doesn't require rinsing, and it works immediately. see? must be the stain-repellant properties of angel tears. i will also say with sadness, though, that it doesn't clean the Dry-Clean-Only Couch of Sorrows. because that level of sorrow is impenetrable to even the best-intentioned among us.)
**whoa. in reading through this, i realize it sounds like i'm getting paid to endorse this or something. i most certainly am not. in fact, i'm sure the people at Folex, after reading this blog post, would pay me handsomely to DISassociate my freaky self from their company in any and all ways. so, consider that some kind of disclaimer if you need to. if being an ordinary girl who wants to adopt this stuff as one of my own children is wrong, i don't want to be right, but at least consider this post disclaimed.