I haven't had much time for posting lately, because I'm striving to be a diligent student at college. Ah, who am I trying to kid. I haven't posted because nothing interesting has happened. (Notice how this sounds light-years better than "I was too lazy to post.")
During this past week, I've had the epitome of all blonde moments. So far, it's my second time going down this route, since a person can have multiple epitomical blonde moments. The first, was when I stated with confidence that the capitol of New York is New Jersey. I've since learned that New Jersey is, in fact, it's own separate state.
Last Saturday, I oxi-cleaned and bleached my favorite white skirt, actually, my only white skirt, until the fabric had nearly dissolved. With utmost care, I wrung out my spotlessly white garment, and hung it up to dry. On Sunday, I laid it out on my bed, and waited patiently for the iron to heat up. Gingerly, I began pressing my skirt. Then, I made a horrible, gut-wrenching mistake. Seeing that there was still a bit of water left in the iron, we have one of those new-fangled contraptions that allows one to unwrinkle a garment using indirect heat, I pressed the steam button. Apparently, the person who had last used the iron had forgotten to wipe away the excess moisture, in retrospect it was probably me, so the little holes that allow steam to escape had developed a bit of rust. Tragically, as I began to iron my skirt, the rust mingled with the escaping steam, causing a dribble of disgusting orange liquid to ooze out all over my pretty white skirt. Have you ever had the irrational urge to cause an inanimate object physical pain? Cue nervous break-down. Admittedly, it wasn't one of my finest moments.
I used up half a bottle of hydrogen peroxide on the offending stains, threw my skirt in the sink, and hoped for the best.
So, on Monday, I began the whole cleaning process...again, and left my skirt to soak in a basin full of water and detergent. I promptly forgot all about it, until Wednesday night. Wednesday! So, I ran out the door at around 10 p.m., dumped out the old water, rinsed my skirt, and filled up the basin with fresh H2O. When do you think I remembered it again? That's right...today. Friday. I found it floating amongst the decomposing carcasses of dead flies, mosquitoes, and other disagreeable insects. I'm going to take this as a sign that God doesn't want me to wear white skirts...
I'd like to direct your attention to the fact that you've just spent a whole two minutes of your time reading several paragraphs on: a white skirt. Heehee.
