Laundry 5, Bone 0

I’ve decided to make the creative writing a regular feature, at least for awhile. I’ll try and do it every Thursday. I’ll post three words, which someone else has given me, and what I wrote using them. I hope some of you will participate, too. I’d love to see what you come up with.

And now time for more bachelor misadventures. Several months ago, I bought a shirt at Express Men. It was a deep red graphic tee. My laundry policy is to wash everything I buy one time by itself, before wearing it and before washing it with the other clothes. So I did.

My typical laundry procedure is to wash towels together, then whites (and sometimes khakis), then colors, then bed clothes, and then sometimes jeans or dress pants separately. I don’t use that many clothes in a week. So this has worked well for me. For the most part.

The second time I washed the scarlet t-shirt, I washed it with the other colors. Opening the washing machine, I was suprised to find it’s dye had been distributed rather liberally amongst the other clothes. (Not realizing that apparently drying clothes sets the stain, I put the clothes in the dryer. But that’s not really important for this story.)

I deemed two or three shirts unwearable after this minor laundry mishap. Pink seemed to be everywhere. Also lost in the carnage were a pair of socks and a bandana. After that, I decided to wash the free bleeder by itself. No more laundry problems. Until Sunday.

I must have washed this shirt at least six or eight times by now. I actually quit wearing it as often just so I wouldn’t have to wash it. But Sunday I decided it would be OK to put it in with the rest of the colors once again. Let it out of solitary confinement to mingle with the other prisoners.

Besides, I’d also bought these nifty Shout Color Catcher sheets, which had been recommended following the previous incident. I figured if there was any leftover discharge from the rebellious shirt, the sheets would take care of it. Well, that’s what I get for figuring.

I now had a gray t-shirt with a hint of pink tint to it. A light blue half-linen, half-cotton button-down shirt, which looked like I was stabbed repeatedly while wearing it. And a mint green, blue, and white striped polo shirt. Which was now mint green, blue, and pink. OK, I really don’t know if it’s mint green or some other shade of green. But I thought it sounded good.

This time, I didn’t dry the most heavily damaged clothes. Instead, I sprayed them with Shout, poured detergent and OxyClean into the washer and rewashed them. Three times. I think I might have salvaged the polo shirt. In a dimly lit room, you can’t really tell there’s any pink. The other two are ruined. That’s like five shirts I’ve lost in the last three months.

Next time on bachelor misadventures, Bone tries to engage the self-cleaning feature on his oven. Three weeks later, he’s getting a brand new electric range.

For now, I’m just hoping for some cooler weather real soon. I’m running out of short sleeve shirts to wear.

“I got ketchup on my blue jeans. I just burned my hand. Lord, it’s hard to be a bachelor man…”