I knew there was Gentian violet in the formula. Yet, somehow, I was not moved to put down newspaper when spraying the feet of one of my chickens who apparently had become the victim of something (most likely another chicken).
Now I have this lovely modern art exhibit permanently installed in my mud room – until I repaint.
Upon finding me laughing at my own stupidity while attempting to clean it up, my husband noted the titular truism and then said, “I’m just glad I didn’t do it.”
And the chicken? She is getting personalized attention, exotic spa treatments (her name is Barbie), and should be recooperated fully by Monday.