Remember the broomstick skirt I dyed red? Well, it bled all over that load of laundry.
Yep, I did know better, but I wasn't thinking when I tossed it into the load. Ruined a nice embroidered-logo polo shirt for work, my two newest tops, and the cobblestone printed shirt it took me two freaking days to paint by hand...
Not to mention the third day it took me to slash and sew that shirt into a flattering redesign for me.
Plus, I can't find my tub of OxyClean to begin to remove the due overrun.
I've rewashed all four items in cold water to no effect. Still pink in the wrong places. Why didn't the dye stick to the damn skirt that well?
Now I have to go to the store and buy some color remover and hope for the best. But it's late and I look rather awful so I think I'll just keep them all soaking in a tub of cold water until tomorrow.
Oh my God. Talk about not seeing the forest for the trees. I just glanced at the check mirror by the bedroom door, and what did I see?
The tub of OxyClean, sitting visibly on the corner of my cedar chest, for Pete's sake. Not 10 feet from me. How did it get there? Don't get me wrong, in glad to have found it, but that's fairly eerie.
Um, thank you, whoever?