Tragedy

Last week my husband brought home a huge gift baskety type thing that he won. He networks with a variety of businesses throughout our Small Town and often goes to functions with fundraising silent auctions, etc. So this day he brought home a giganto basket filled with kitchen items- towels, utensils, some cake mixes, all sorts of fun stuff for the kitchen. I was delighted. So on Saturday I tossed all the new little kitchen towels in the laundry load that was a mix of light colors. I didn't remember it until yesterday when I ran to the washer to get them into the dryer before they started stinking like mildew. I didn't even look at any of it. I just grabbed and tossed. Grabbed and tossed. When I pulled the clothes and new towels out of the dryer I found one of my husband's undershirts totally covered in a rainbow of splotches. Whoa. I dumped all the clothes out on the floor and frantically began foraging for the Gymboree shirts . . . are they ruined? Precious Gymboree wear that I love and spend too much money on!? Thankfully they were fine. Obviously they had not sat next to the wet, color bleeding perpetrator for two days.

THIS is the perpetrator

So I continued along feeling thankful that the ruined clothes were, for the most part, inconsequential- the undershirt, another kitchen handtowel, a shirt that I like to sleep in. Until I saw this:

Okay, that was just too much. Neither of these things should have even been in the same laundry load. The towel clearly belonged in the darks and my DYM shirt is always washed in cold gentle and line dried. I love this shirt for so many reasons, not just because it is from Kathryn's blog and I think she totally rocks. But it's also the most comfortable t-shirt that I own. It's super soft, my favorite color, and I love to wear it. I somehow feel empowered when I wear it. I am daring! I am young(ish)! I am a mom! Hear me roar! "Go me!" I think to myself as I charge through Wal-Mart proudly sporting my DYM shirt with a cart full of stuff and two children, one begging for everything in site and one screeching while trying to do swan dives out of the cart. This job takes more guts than a stunt man on The Matrix.

The Hubs took one look at it and said in a sympathetic tone, "Oooooh, your shirt . . . welllll, it's kind of tie-dye now . . . ?" Yeah, because I SO love to wear tie-dye. Then he said, "Well, you could order another one."

Thank you, I will. (Sniff)

RIP my beloved DYM shirt.

You will make a wonderful, totally hip work t-shirt when we paint the bathroom next week.