November 12, 2007
Somebody talk me off of this ledge.
Why am I standing on a ledge you ask?
Because I'm angry. I'm SO ANGRY. I AM SOOOO FREAKING MAD!!!
As I was throwing some laundry into the washing machine this morning, I came across a peculiar sight. It was a priceless family heirloom haphazardly stuffed into a ball and thrown into the dirty clothes hamper.
That's right. The shorts from James's hand-sewn Richard Simmons halloween costume were wedged between a pair of pee-soaked footy pajamas and a stinky-old, wet dishrag.
I fished the shorty-shorts out of the hamper, caught my breath, and lovingly laid them on top of the dryer--inspecting them closely for any apparent damage. Aside from some moderate-to-severe wrinkling and a bit of pom-pom discoloration, they were okay.
"Thank goodness," I though. And then it occurred to me, "The matching shirt?! Where is the matching muscle tank!?"
I caught a glimpse of the empty hamper and realized that it was already in the washing machine, which was filling up with water. I threw my body over the dryer and was barely able to reach the STOP button with the tip of my middle finger.
I opened the washing machine and was relieved to find that the muscle tee had remained relatively dry. The felt stars, you see, are not machine washable. Neither are the crafty little pom-poms or the golden glitter accents.
I am, however, very sad to report that the tank top did not fare as well as the coordinating shorts. It's severely wrinkled, has several small stains, and the stars are falling off.
I'm not sure you understand the degree of angst that I'm experiencing as a result of this loss. I was proud of that hand-made costume. That circa-1970s white edging was attached with love--every single stitch was sewn in a caring effort to make my kid a little bit more special than the rest.
I wanted all of my kids to wear it. And I wanted all of their kids to wear it, too.
My hope is gone. My dreams are dashed. And my "helpful" husband will be sleeping on the balcony until he can either learn to reproduce the Richard Simmons costume stitch for stitch, or he begins earning a six-figure salary...which ever comes first.