The water is Paris is rife with calcium. Which perhaps means there’s a low rate of osteoporosis in women around here. But it also means for the rest of us, we have to deal with this:
Oh, the humiliation…But why, I ask? Why me?
Because je suis Parisian (and it’s not just me), so I dump sel in my dishwasher and dutifully pop in one of my beloved Powerballs which releases its magic during each and every spin through the machine. Still, my glasses are covered with calcium. I’ve also soaked them in white vinegar, a must-have around here to combat the calcium buildup that blocks our faucets and water heaters as well.
And for my last desperate attempt to solve the problem once and for all, yesterday I splurged on a fine bottle rinçage (rinse agent) that was priced more than a moderately-good Burgundy, and washed everything again.
Nothing. I eagerly opened the door of the dishwasher the second the final cycle was done in great anticipation. But through the moist, hazy steam, I lifted a glass skyward and with the sun streaming through, my normally-cheery spirits dropped when I saw the stubborn white film had refused to budge from the sides of the glasses.
What can I do?
I’m can’t go out in public, and the weather’s getting too nice to hide myself indoors, shrouded in shame, for much longer…