Absurdly Trivial Melodrama.
I don't decorate a room until something speaks to me. That means that a room can look completely bare for months, even years, before it is transformed. And so it happens, this past week, that my bathroom went from the way it had been for the last 18 months, to cute - all due to drink coasters found at fire finch. I'm sorry what? Drink Coasters? Thats right.
I had fun with it, anyways :) Except for one small thing.
Everyone has something in their home they are picky about. Dishes, sheets, bath robes, lighting. I can put up with eating out of tupperware and using fluorescent lighting, my couch is covered with white blankets because I don't feel like getting another yet, my tv is almost ten years old and it's perfectly fine for me. But towels??? I'm afraid no. They MUST be big, soft, snuggly, and able to stand up to washing.
That having been said, I went all over this great metropolis last week looking for towels to match my new color scheme, and tragically became so wrapped up in finding the hard-to-find colors, that I completely lost sight of my rather stringent towel standards. The color was finally found, and in my near frantic joy it just seemed an added bonus that they were dirt cheap and on clearance. "How lucky!" I thought. Alas, hindsight 20/20. The absolutely perfect-color towels I bought practically exploded in my washer on the first wash. Arg! Fiends! Who could possibly look themselves in the mirror every morning and make a towel that can't be washed a single time without looking like a choral colored Pomeranian exploded on it?? Clearly someone can. And to them I say: watch out.
Thats not the only adventure I had in washing this weekend, but sadly the other one was completely my fault. Why *not* put your favorite cream/white colored shirt in with the black, silky, never-before-washed item? True, both need to be washed on delicate cycle, but might I propose that other things should be considered besides cycle similarities? Fortunately - following that fateful wash, a phase of complete and total panic, phone calls with my mother, frantic searches online to see if a certain shirt was available *anywhere* for purchase, and several more washings (one with a tooouch of bleach) - I think I can now go on living. So what if it's a tad more white now than cream, I can live with that. What did NOT survive was any pride or idea I may have had on one day being a domestic queen. C'est la vie, I suppose. I'm certain that my future significant other will be happy to both cook AND wash. Or, alternatively, not care if he eats occasionally burnt food and can't count on the color of his clothing from day to day.
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I had fun with it, anyways :) Except for one small thing.
Everyone has something in their home they are picky about. Dishes, sheets, bath robes, lighting. I can put up with eating out of tupperware and using fluorescent lighting, my couch is covered with white blankets because I don't feel like getting another yet, my tv is almost ten years old and it's perfectly fine for me. But towels??? I'm afraid no. They MUST be big, soft, snuggly, and able to stand up to washing.
That having been said, I went all over this great metropolis last week looking for towels to match my new color scheme, and tragically became so wrapped up in finding the hard-to-find colors, that I completely lost sight of my rather stringent towel standards. The color was finally found, and in my near frantic joy it just seemed an added bonus that they were dirt cheap and on clearance. "How lucky!" I thought. Alas, hindsight 20/20. The absolutely perfect-color towels I bought practically exploded in my washer on the first wash. Arg! Fiends! Who could possibly look themselves in the mirror every morning and make a towel that can't be washed a single time without looking like a choral colored Pomeranian exploded on it?? Clearly someone can. And to them I say: watch out.
Thats not the only adventure I had in washing this weekend, but sadly the other one was completely my fault. Why *not* put your favorite cream/white colored shirt in with the black, silky, never-before-washed item? True, both need to be washed on delicate cycle, but might I propose that other things should be considered besides cycle similarities? Fortunately - following that fateful wash, a phase of complete and total panic, phone calls with my mother, frantic searches online to see if a certain shirt was available *anywhere* for purchase, and several more washings (one with a tooouch of bleach) - I think I can now go on living. So what if it's a tad more white now than cream, I can live with that. What did NOT survive was any pride or idea I may have had on one day being a domestic queen. C'est la vie, I suppose. I'm certain that my future significant other will be happy to both cook AND wash. Or, alternatively, not care if he eats occasionally burnt food and can't count on the color of his clothing from day to day.