When he was about eight years old, my younger brother had a red cotton jacket with a baseball patch on it. Kid loved that jacket and wore it nonstop, until it turned from a cheery cherry red to a dingy brick hue. Finally one evening my mother managed to get it away from him and into the washing machine. I'm not sure what she used on it, but the end result was so astonishingly wonderful that she hiked up two flights of steps to my bedroom and woke me up just to show me how clean the jacket had become.
Rush over to The Full Mommy to find out about my similar moment of laundry exaltation.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
1 comment:
There's a couple times where I have washed something convinced that it is a lost cause and have truly been convinced a miracle occurred when it did indeed come out looking like new.
Post a Comment