I had prepared a nice little blog centered on Father’s Day (complete with a Dave Barry patented, knee slapping gift guide), but over the last week I have been on a beach vacation, then had that vacation end early, abruptly, and unexpectedly by the death of my maternal grandmother. Which is my way of saying that I know I’ve not been around for a while but I consider it an excused absence. I guess it also means that with a few tweaks I have already written my Father’s Day blog for next year… assuming you’ll keep me around.
So instead of sentimental pretense relating to the perfect gift for Father’s Day, I find myself trying to forget the last five days or so by writing about laundry. Sure, laundry is boring, but it’s an intrinsic part to the life of a stay at home parent and the greatest thing I’ve done today.
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As a stay-at-home-dad the laundry chore falls squarely on my shoulders. I actually kind of like it, and consider myself pretty good at it. I manage to keep whites white, darks dark, and things folded and smelling fresh 99.99% of the time.
Until today. When I turned everything pink.
Now, there are admittedly two different versions of this story. My wife swears that things happened a little differently, but until someone gives her a blog my version will be the one on public record.
Due to our early return from our beach vacation our laundry situation got a little out of hand. Things that needed urgent washing (such as pillow cases and essential clothing) were completed, and things less urgent, such as my daughter’s clothes, were left in their respective hampers.
At some point during the crazy rush to get settled at home while preparing for a funeral my wife showed me a stack of my daughter’s clothing and asked what I would like to have done with it. I asked her to put it in my daughter’s hamper so that I could work on it later. What I didn’t know is that the pile I had been shown held a brand new red towel that I couldn’t see through the sweat falling into my eyes in my hurry.
Now, I know that lights and darks should generally be separated, but at our house our clothes have been washed so many times that I can wash my daughter’s faded navy sock with her white sock without incident. So when it came time today to wash this truckload of laundry I started by throwing ALL of the contents of my daughter’s hamper in the wash. The wife will protest this next point (in her imaginary blog), but I swear I had no idea that someone would throw a “red rascal” into my daughter’s hamper.
Long story short, the physical and chemical changes necessary to remove the red dye from a new, cheap-o beach towel and affix it permanently to anything not already red or black occurred in my laundry this morning. Fortunately my daughter totally digs pink. Because every freaking thing in that load is now pink, including my favorite formerly blue and white striped shirt that I threw in at the last minute.
I think the reason this upsets me so (aside from the loss of my favorite shirt) is because it appears to be a rookie mistake. Only a man would be dumb enough to wash a red towel with light colors, right? Except I’m really not that guy… unless someone sneaks colored contraband into my load, that is.