Destruction of the Favorites

Do you know your five favorite pieces of clothing? If you’re like me, they’re the first things you pack for a trip and the first things that go in the wash when you get home.

The soft purple hoodie with huge pockets that your friend Linda helped you find for your terrifying trip to Europe. The quilted down vest that belonged to your dad. You’ve been wearing it since he passed away and yours went missing. The black fleece sweatpants that have literally saved you from hypothermia on uncountable camping trips. The underwear at the perfect age between new-too-tight and too-loose-old. The ultra-soft t-shirt you were unexpectedly given as swag after an exhausting day of volunteer work.

The five favorites. Or maybe you have ten…twenty?
(I probably have 30, and every one has a story layered into seams of comfort, pockets, and places they’ve been worn.)

Imagine them all getting ruined in one disastrous laundry faux pas.
Yes, I’m trying hard not to cry right now.

Travel is good, but traveling to the point of exhaustion is bad. A round, white, unopened container of Best Western Breakfast Cream Cheese went into my load of laundry. Both wash and dry.

I told myself at least three times to find a place to toss that warm, days old, toxic cream cheese. It ended up in a pocket for several days running. I couldn’t put it in the car trash, under the nose of the dog. I didn’t reach into the pocket before taking off my jacket when I got in the hotel. Every time I reached in and found that damn, haunting garbage, I was never near a trashcan. It didn’t get thrown out.

Of course, I ALWAYS go through the pockets of my clothes before I wash them. I checked my jeans pockets. I checked the hoodie.
And yet.
I didn’t check the vest. I only rarely wash it, like when it ends up getting completely covered with teriyaki sauce after an unfortunate lunch accident.

I’m doing my best to not lose my shit. To not dive into despair and self-loathing for possibly covering all of my favorite comfort-clothes with melted creamcheeseplastic.

Because it isn’t just cream cheese. That would just wash out with another laundering. No, it is a melted cheese-plastic crust that is, so far, resisting all scrubbing. And the smears aren’t here or there, they are EVERYWHERE. The pale plastic smears are all down the fronts, the backs, the sleeves. In both elongated streaks and blob-like splotches. Not relegated to one item of clothing, or one pocket, but EVERYWHERE. My washer and dryer do a thorough job of moving everything around.

Oxiclean stain stick has been applied to the purple hoodie, my prize possession. I’ll be scrubbing at it with a toothbrush before making it the next thing into the washer after I clean out both washer and dryer. I hope it will come clean. If it does, I will diligently apply more, and scrub at the rest of the items. If it doesn’t…well, then I will lose my shit for a while.

Thursday. It must be Thursday. I never could get the hang of Thursdays.

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