Thou shalt not wash red clothing with light colors.
My husband owns one red polo shirt. For the purposes of this post, let’s call it Maroon. Maroon’s reign of terror on our laundry has struck again.
I’ll give you one guess for figuring out who threw Maroon in another load of light clothes.
Now, lest you think I didn’t take the steps to avoid this situation, Bryan and I had the “don’t ever wash Maroon with anything but very dark colors” conversation in the past. We had this small chat after he dyed some socks, another polo shirt, two of my white camisoles and my white cardigan a not-so lovely pink.
After having this conversation, my mind was at peace. Bryan doesn’t forget anything. My Wife of the Year nomination must be on the way, now that I’ve eloquently explained the importance of separating your laundry into colors and whites.
I was wrong twice. Bryan forgot. And I never saw that Wife of the Year nomination.
But you know the worst part? This white shirt, which found itself in the same fateful load with Maroon, survived 100% intact:
This is one my husband’s many thrift store shirts. We’ve weeded some out, but this is one of his favorites. Please note the ripped sleeve on the right side. If I told you how this sleeve came to look like this, you probably wouldn’t believe me.
I’ve been plotting to incinerate throw away that shirt for weeks. Dying it pink would have been my easy out.
Bryan’s belief of why Rockstar BBQ was spared and not my Dodgers shirt is a simple one.
“God loves that shirt babe. That’s the only explanation.”
If that’s true, add that to the list of my questions for God.
Maroon could have saved me a lot of trouble.
Thanks Maroon. Thanks for nothing.