Oh, who are we kidding? It's the rule 24/7, at least for Mrs. Hillbilly Mom's life. No matter how she tries do stay on top of things, unMurphied, she still gets Murphed when she least expects it.
Let the record show that I have a favorite sweatshirt. It's kind of my ONLY sweatshirt, actually. It's baby blue, a crewneck, about four sizes too large now, nice and warm, starting to wear out at the cuffs. There's a little hole in the left cuff (hardly noticeable!) that makes a loop in which my thumb, or a kitchen drawer knob, often gets trapped. But I'm used to that. I can adapt.
Most days, I put on my sweatshirt over my regular shirt when I descend to my dark basement lair. Even with my underdesk heater, I feel the chill. It's probably 69 degrees down there, with the rest of the house being 70. Once my sweatshirt is on, it stays on for the day. I have to keep shoving the sleeves up as I'm cooking supper and washing dishes, but I'm in a comfortable bubble of warm air.
My sweatshirt is a bit faded. There's one little stain on it (I think that's pretty good, since I've worn it winter-daily for several years now. The spot is pretty recent, I'd say within the past six months. I tried pre-treating it with a paste of Tide, but unlike other similar efforts, that spot didn't come all the way out. I think it might have been some salsa from a Super Nachos lunch. Still, you can hardly see it, just a slightly darker spot on the upper left chest. If I wore a corsage, it would be hidden.
Since I never wear my sweatshirt out amongst the populace of Hillmomba, that stain doesn't really bother me. But the other day, I noticed my sleeves were getting saggier and saggier, and the cuffs perhaps a bit dingy, so I threw my beloved sweatshirt into the washer overnight with a load of towels. The next afternoon, I took it out when I was ready to go downstairs. So soft. So comfortable. So toasty warm.
I went out to walk, leaving my sweatshirt on, because the temps have been in the low-30s here in the evening. I wore a jacket over it, but I enjoyed the extra layer of insulation. I got Farmer H's supper ready, and took a snack downstairs for myself for later. On the snack menu that night was an individual pack of Cheez Its Cheddar Jack crackers, and a plastic container of Frank's RedHot Original Hot Sauce to dip them in. It's quite tasty if you like hot and spicy, and can handle the high sodium.
On the very last cracker, I dripped Frank's on my sweatshirt. The sweatshirt I'd taken out of the dryer only hours before. It's not like I planned to wear this sweatshirt to an awards dinner or had been invited for tea with the Queen the next day. But nobody wants to
I treated that spot, about the size of a dime, in the area my hand would cover if I wore my sweatshirt to say the Pledge of Allegiance. The stain did not come all the way out, after two back-to-back washings, so I tossed it in the dryer, knowing full well that heat sets the stain. That means I was without my sweatshirt for my afternoon dark basement lair session. But when I went back up for walking and supper preparation, I removed it from the dryer to wear back down.
As soon as I sat down at my desk, I took some ice I'd carried down in a red Solo cup, pried the plastic lid off my 44 oz Diet Coke that I'd added, as always, a bit of Great Value Sugar Free Cherry Limeade powder to, and prepared to cool down my drink for the evening hours of sipping.
First ice cube...PLOP!
The spray of agitated, Cherry Limeaded, Diet Coke spewed forth and left SEVEN pink spots on my clean sweatshirt.
I'm wearing it now. It can wait a few days for laundering.