The morning air has become noticeably cooler.
When I leave the window open, the heavy, hot air that had settled inside the house all summer is replaced by a light, dry breeze.
It is autumn.
The sunlight is still bright, but it is no longer fierce like summer. Even the sunbeams stretching across the living room floor seem gentler now. With the window slightly open, the curtains sway slowly.
I watched that slow movement for a while, then got up and headed to the bathroom to wash up. On the small table beside the sink, I noticed an unfamiliar cleaner.
It was a bathroom cleaner sent to me by someone I personally know, who had recently launched the product.
To avoid any misunderstanding, I should add this first. This was not a relationship formed because of the product, nor was it a connection made for sponsorship. It was exactly what it sounds like: someone I already knew happened to make a new product and sent one to me.
To be honest, I was not very interested at first.
I already had a bathroom cleaner I used quite happily.
A 3,000-won power cleaner from Daiso.
It was cheap, harsh and effective, in the most Daiso-like way possible. Honestly, those three things were enough. By my standards, it was close to the strongest bathroom cleaner I could ask for.
Of course, there was a price.
Every time I used it, my eyes stung and I sometimes felt slightly nauseous. After cleaning, I had to leave the bathroom door wide open and run the ventilation fan for quite a while.
Still, the results were always satisfying. The pinkish water stains that made me shudder whenever I spotted them would disappear cleanly, and the bathtub and bathroom floor would return to their original colors. There was even a strange pleasure in watching that happen.
It felt as if I was cleaning not just the bathroom, but some corner of my own mind.
There are things that feel unpleasant and uncomfortable to leave alone, but that I keep putting off because I do not want to deal with them right away. Like the grime in the bathroom, certain thoughts seem to cling to one side of the mind. And as I scrubbed hard with a sponge, it felt as if those thoughts were being erased too.
After the hard work, looking at a clean bathroom made my mind feel a little lighter.
In fact, I liked that feeling.
Maybe that was why.
For a long time, I thought the harsh smell and stinging eyes were simply the price one had to pay for cleanliness. Perhaps I had believed that for quite a while.
Then this morning, I walked into the bathroom and came face to face with water mold again.
While I had been busy and distracted all week, that familiar pinkish stain had quietly expanded its territory along one side of the bathtub.
“So, it has come to this.”
I stood there for a while, looking down at the bathtub.
“Well, since we’re here, let’s do this properly.”
And that was how my unexpected pre-Chuseok bathroom cleaning began.
Normally, I would have picked up my familiar power cleaner without thinking. But today, I decided to try the cleaner I had received as a gift. Since I would eventually have to use it anyway, I figured I might as well try it sooner rather than later.
A bathroom cleaner made with birch sap.
Toilatt.
To be honest, I did not have high expectations. I assumed most bathroom cleaners were more or less the same. Part of me also expected to be disappointed if it did not clean as satisfyingly as the power cleaner I had used for so long.
Since I had received the product, I became curious about its development story.
Why a bathroom cleaner, of all things?
When I read the story, it was surprisingly relatable.
The stinging eyes after cleaning. The tightness in the chest. The children who could not come near because of the smell. The feeling of making the bathroom clean while quietly wondering, “Is it really okay to keep using this?”
“Oh… so it wasn’t just me.”
What made it even more familiar was seeing the person I know in the actual cleaning and testing photos.
I suppose fathers all think alike.
I picked up the Toilatt cleaner to begin cleaning. As usual, I left the bathroom door open. Then I sprayed it toward the bathtub, sink and toilet.
Chik. Chik-chik. Chik-chik-chik.
Chiiiiiiik.
White foam slowly ran down the wall.
At that moment, without realizing it, I held my breath a little. It was a habit my body had learned. I expected that familiar sharp smell to rise up and sting my nose.
I waited.
But nothing happened.
It was strange. Based on my experience, the smell should have arrived by then. As much as the mold was being killed off, the bathroom should have been filled with that intense bleach smell. My eyes should have started to sting, and even taking one deep breath should have required courage.
Whenever the bathroom fills with bleach smell, I naturally remember the chemical warfare training I experienced during military training in my early twenties.
“All right. Here we go.”
From that moment on, I would begin rationing my breath for no reason, squinting my eyes and focusing on finishing the cleaning as quickly as possible. Cleaner in one hand, sponge in the other. Like I was in field training, I had to scrub quickly and accurately.
Scrub.
Then scrub again.
At some point, bathroom cleaning had become that kind of task for me.
Something I had to endure while briefly holding my breath in exchange for cleanliness.
“Huh?”
I carefully took one breath.
It was fine.
I breathed in a little more deeply.
My eyes did not sting. My throat did not feel tight. The subtle scent was almost unfamiliar.
“So this is what it feels like to clean a bathroom in a birch forest.”
Now there was only one thing left to check.
Does it actually clean?
I picked up the sponge.
Scrub.
One more time.
Scrub.
“Hmm.”
The old, stubborn grime stuck inside the bathtub did not come off immediately with one or two scrubs the way it did with the power cleaner I usually used. But that did not mean the cleaning power felt weak.
Water stains and lighter marks came off quite well after spraying the cleaner and letting it sit for a moment. Once I rinsed it with water, the bathtub and tiles began to shine again and reveal their original color.
For older, more stubborn grime, I just had to move my hand a few more times.
Scrub.
A little more.
And if there was still a spot that refused to come off, the answer was simple.
I could use my usual power cleaner only on that part.
Once I thought of it that way, I felt more comfortable.
There was no need to solve everything with one harsh cleaner.
Use something gentler for everyday cleaning.
Use something stronger only where it is really needed.
That was enough.
After finishing the cleaning, I sprayed water across the bathroom floor. The foam slowly flowed toward the drain. The tiles that had looked dull a little while earlier revealed their color again.
I rinsed the sponge and stood up. As always, I washed my hands.
But this time, I did not stare at my fingertips for a long time. I did not check whether they were stinging. I did not rub my eyes. Instead, I simply stood there and took one deep breath.
Nothing happened.
And that felt surprisingly good.
Since getting married, bathroom cleaning had always felt like a small chemical warfare drill. Sometimes once a week, sometimes once a month if I got lazy. It was something I knew I would eventually have to do, yet I always had to prepare myself mentally before starting.
Once I started, I could not finish carelessly. As I removed water stains, scrubbed away mold, and cleaned the bathtub and floor, my eyes would sting and my breathing would feel heavy. When the cleaning was done, the bathroom looked spotless, but I was left with sore fingertips and drained energy.
I gained cleanliness.
But I felt as if I had worn myself down a little in the process.
Today was different.
The bathroom was clean.
And I was fine.
That simple fact felt much better than I expected.
When I first decided to try this product, I had no intention of writing a review. Since someone I knew had sent it to me, I thought I would try it once. If I liked it, I could keep using it. If not, I could simply return to my familiar Daiso power cleaner.
But after finishing the bathroom cleaning and walking out of the bathroom with a perfectly normal face, I changed my mind.
“I should tell people about this.”
I wanted to share this good news with people like me, people who unintentionally enter chemical warfare mode the moment they start cleaning the bathroom. Especially with the husbands of this era who march into the bathroom every weekend, cleaner in one hand and sponge in the other.
Of course, compared with a 3,000-won power cleaner from Daiso, this is a fairly expensive premium cleaner.
And in front of stubborn grime, there may be times when you have to scrub a few more times.
Even so, I think it is attractive enough.
At least while cleaning, I did not have to hold my breath.
I did not have to squint my eyes.
And after finishing, I did not have to open every window in the house and feel relieved that I had “survived once again.”
That is why I am writing this.
And that is why I declare:
To all bathroom-cleaning officers across the country.
To all husbands who march into the bathroom every weekend.
At last, good news has arrived.
Let the bathroom be clean.
Let us remain intact.
I hereby declare that bathroom cleaning without chemical warfare is now possible.
