Times like these I wish I had my mommy around.
May 27, 2011 § 1 Comment
We got chocolate on our blanket.
Now, I can go into the detailed story about how this happened, actually, I could tell you all about our slovenly, yet humorous, ways, but as I haven’t figured out if that would embarrass me or make me laugh, let’s just say that how the chocolate got on our comforter is not the important part of this story.
The important part is how I got it out.
Okay, so we found the chocolate at night, while we were laying in bed watching Numb3rs on Netflix (thank you old roomie). The husband took the blanket off the bed and got us a couple new ones so that we could finish our tv watching and worry about the stain later. Priorities, you know. So the next morning, before we went to the gym, I sprayed some stain remover on the spot and threw the comforter in the washer with some detergent.
Apparently, our comforter is too big and bulky for the washing machine at the apartment, so after two tries I gave up and took out the partially wet blanket stained with chocolate and now our blue detergent which hadn’t dissolved and brought it in to air dry. Then we left on our anniversary trip without worrying about whether or not the stain will set in and never come out.
Says the husband, “We’ll just buy a new one.”
So Wednesday–Yes, we came back Sunday night and the comforter was still laid out over our chair where we had left it on Friday–I decided to wash the thing in the tub, after I cleaned it out of course. I made a bubble bath of cold water and detergent and put the thing in there and kneaded it like dough and scrubbed out the stain.
Except for the part where I remembered that a washer has two cycles: the cycle that makes the bubbles, and the cycle that rinses out all the bubbles.
The comforter sat in our tub while I was at work, and when I came back it had soaked up every single bit of water left in the tub. So I stripped down and cleaned my feet off really good, turned the cold water back on and started kneading the soap out with my feet.
Imagine, if you will, women stomping grapes. Cause that would a perfect image of what I was doing at the moment.
Half an hour later, no more soap on the blanket! We ran out of laundry money for the week, so I figured I’d just hoist over the shower curtain bar and let it air dry.
Have you ever lifted a soaking comforter before? Me either, because it was so heavy I couldn’t lift it past my waist.
The husband, using his man-strength, held it up in the air while I wrung out as much water as I could and then took it and laid it out over the chairs on our balcony. The poor thing was dripping so much that the four balconies below us caught most of the water. I’m surprised maintenance didn’t come knocking down our door.
The blanket sat there for two days in the sun, trying to dry out.
I pulled it in yesterday–it smells like summer!–only to find that the chocolate stain was replaced by dirt from the cement balcony where the corner had brushed up against.
But surely that’ll be easier to get out, right?
It’s times like these I wish I lived closer to my momsy, because she could’ve told me a much better way to clean this blanket. I can imagine now what she would say to me:
“Come bring the thing over here and use my commercial-sized washer. Don’t wash it in the tub, idiot.”
Oh mom, your wisdom still stays with me.