(I'm paraphrasing here) Number one wash the affected area in your own usual way & dry as thoroughly as possible. Did you see the medicated plaster? Not the unmedicated plaster, that's for later. Okay! Yes! Then number two put the medicated plaster on the place you previously washed.
Wait, did you just say "warshed"? Where are you from? Because that is some hicky Southern pronunciation right there. I have to get the warsh from the warshing machine I bought in Warshington state. All right, all right, don't get your tank top in a tizzie.
Number three, wait forty-eight hours. Two days. Two nights & two days. Don't be impatient. Don't be impertinent. Don't be importuning me in any way about this. Starting the moment you put the plaster on, forty eight hours. Four eight. Six times eight. Four times twelve. Two times twenty-four. Forty-eight mother father hours.
Did I mention soaking? I thought I mentioned soaking. Maybe add to number one "soak in warm water." Unless that's how you clean? Do you clean by soaking? Who does that, really. At best soaking is, as the poet put it, "A twenty-minute soak can improve how you think & feel/That’s time well spent each & every day, you heel." Or is that in the bibble?
Let's skip number four which is just repeat as necessary & then go straight to number five which is sexy like broccoli covered in wafers: Only do this for fourteen days. A fortnight! After that, give up!
The origin of the word "fortnight" seems pretty self-expository. As the Wickerpedia says, "The word derives from the Old English: fēowertyne niht, meaning 'fourteen nights.'" It does not, as the Wackapedia says, "derive from the New English fort night, meaning 'two weeks in a fort is like one night in a fort.'"
How do you feel now? Does it work? Is the plaster painful? Is the plaster painful as a pest? As a pestilence? As a petulant parrot pretending to pout? As a portentous polygon past its prime? As a pretentious primadonna prancing & preening? As a portmanteau pulled peevishly by poorly-paid porters? As a puffin pining for the Pacific? As a possibly pleasant pastry packed with pineapple pectin? As a peripatetic plumber planting posies in Palermo? As putrid pumpkin placed prettily on pieces of pie? As perverse proclivities proscribed from the pulpit? As people pointing politely at puzzled policemen? As perturbed payment for pandemonium? As piles of putty plopped perfunctorily in public by playful Parisians? As posh poseurs perplexed by polygamy? As peculiar peroration per Pinter or Proust? As provocative papal pontification perceived & pooh-poohed? As pure, palliative potables partaken poisonously? As paradoxical positions plainly proclaimed? As peanut passion? As potato precipitation? As preposterous parties plagued by penguins? As pointless pigs prestidigitating? As pitiable partridges parting in poverty? As parboiled pantaloons?
No?
Well, if you say so.
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