Come on in, Mister Clean. Polish your shaven bald head shiny as can be and roll up those short tee shirt sleeves. The floors, the doors, even windows ought to gleam a fresh lemon scent. And faster than you can say disinfectant, the whole dirty place is spotless, enough to make Gomer proudly shazam.
Is there a soother calm than the quiet whir of an Electrolux canister vacuum? Or a purer sound than the effervescent fizz of scrubbing bathroom surface foam? Maybe just maybe the fat lady not only sings but mops on her knees sans brush or sponge using good, old-fashioned elbow grease. And not a trace of fine dust remains.
God bless the spic-and-span for doing such a top job.