Laundry Disasters

I usually do the laundry in our household. But every once in a while, Husband will help out when he has time. Usually I say, “Aww…you didn’t have to do that.” Now, my new saying will be, “You don’t have to do that. No really, please, don’t do that.”

The first laundry disaster actually had nothing to do with the actual washing of clothes. Husband had cleaned up around the house using one of his small, bright red rags. Evidently, it was a little damp when he threw it in the laundry hamper. It just so happens that my favorite white, collared shirt was underneath the red rag.

Ladies and gentleman of the jury (or internet), I present you with Exhibit A.

The shirt has to be retired, unless I want to make people wonder if I’m an overzealous artist or a messy butcher.

Husband apologized profusely about the incident, and I wasn’t too upset because I know it truly was an accident. To be on the safe side, I stored all of his “favorite” red rags in a new location – the garbage.

This past weekend was the second laundry disaster. Husband threw in a load of laundry on Saturday morning. He happened to wash the long-sleeved white shirt that I was planning to wear that night. The only problem is that the shirt can’t go in the dryer, or else it will quickly become child-size.

I told him, “How am I going to wear that shirt tonight? There won’t be enough time for it to air dry.”

Husband had an idea. He hung the damp shirt on the towel rack in the bathroom, and put our space heater on underneath. I shrugged my shoulders and said, “Ok.”

A couple hours later, I decide to check on my shirt. The good news is that it’s completely dry. The bad news is that the bathroom is filled with smoke, the shirt has scorch marks on the back, and the plastic on the space heater has started to melt. I scream, and Husband comes running in.

The shirt had fallen onto the space heater, and the rest is laundry-disaster history. I couldn’t be too mad at Husband for this one, since, sadly, I went along with his crackpot plan. This time, we’re retiring both the shirt and the space heater.

Exhibit B.

Husband said, “I’m so sorry! I’ll never wash your clothes again.” Good idea. And then I realized I just signed myself up for a lifetime of doing laundry. Hmm…