We're having a family photo, as well as Garrett's 2 year old pictures, taken tomorrow. Last night Troy and I spent about an hour trying to figure out what the three of us should wear. We're very big on matching and not clashing so getting pictures taken is kind of an ordeal. We finally settled on putting Garrett in a new shirt with several shades of blue, me in a brown shirt, and Troy in a vintage off-white shirt with brown and blue vertical stripes. The shirt we landed on for Troy is one of his favorites. I noticed that it had a very small yellow stain on the front in one of the off-white stripes. I didn't think it would show up in the picture but I decided to wash it anyway.
This afternoon I did a load of laundry and when I pulled Troy's shirt out I discovered that, even with stain remover, the mark was still there. It actually looked worse than before. I decided to use the trick that I implement when my khakis get a stain that won't come out. I simply dip a Q-tip into bleach and dab the mark. Usually the bleach won't take the khaki color out but, even if it does, the spot is so small against so much khaki that it's never noticeable. So I gently dabbed at the yellow stain. I hadn't taken into consideration that the bleach would spread from the off-white section to the colored section. The yellow stain remained. I have no idea what it was but it sure had a mind to stay put. The nearest brown stripe, however, began turning bright red. Now the shirt that previously had a tiny yellow stain has a two inch section of red stripe smack dab in the center. I might have swore. I can't remember. I know I wanted to.
I had ruined what might have been my husband's favorite shirt. I know for sure that it was in his top five. Not only did I destroy his clothing, I destroyed the clothing he was supposed to wear in our pictures tomorrow. I ran to the Internet and searched for it, but with no luck. Both Troy and Garrett were taking afternoon naps so I turned on the baby monitor in our bedroom, left Troy a note on the back of the toilet that read, "Had to run an errand. Be home soon." I figured he'd probably visit the commode after waking from his nap and he needed to know that he was in charge of the boy and I hadn't been abducted. I shut his broken shirt in the laundry room and closed the door. Then I hightailed it to The District, the retail center by my house. I went to Ross, Target, Aeropostale, American Eagle and JC Penney. The only store that sells clothing that I didn't visit was Buckle because Buckle shirts are like 65 dollars and my money doesn't work on shirts that cost that much. I was desperately looking for a shirt that might replace the ruined one both in practice and in Troy's heart. Eventually I found a similar shirt at JC Penney and also bought a polo shirt because they were having a mad crazy sale. I'd already bought Garrett a solid blue shirt at Target because he has no solid colored shirts and it's hard to match our adult wardrobe to his toddler one. I got all three shirts for 22 dollars.
When I got home they were still asleep. The boy soon awoke and Troy was not far behind. I was folding laundry and the door to the laundry room was open. Troy's dead shirt was on top of the washing machine.
T: My shirt is on the washing machine.
T: I dry that shirt.
L: Yes. I know.
Apparently I sounded weird because he responded with
T: Did something happen to my shirt?
L: Yes. Yes it did.
T: Did you ruin my shirt?
He looked at me skeptically because I tease him so much he doesn't know whether to believe me anymore. It's a problem. I'm kind of like the girl who cried "We didn't bring the camera and they didn't use the dental burqa and whoa look at that giant bald spot you have suddenly and by the way I ruined your shirt."
L: I know what you're thinking but I promise that I am not joking this time. I really did ruin your shirt.
And I proceeded to explain. Troy was sad. I apologized profusely. And then I presented the new shirts. It was kind of like if your dog died and you got a new puppy that very day. He liked the new puppy but he really missed the dead dog. He told me that he forgave me though, and that I made up for it by trying really hard to replace the old shirt. I married a darn good one. In fact, I think I might go as far as to say that I married the best one. If he'd ruined one of my favorite pieces of clothing there would have been a funeral and possibly a good ten minutes of the silent treatment. Although, truthfully, I suppose Troy would have to do laundry in order for that to happen.