Pretty Purple Ball

In my defense . . .

Okay, I have no defense.

Sometimes ignorance is just comical . . .

It was a treasured wedding gift. A beautiful, purple blanket.

Warm.

Cuddly.

The kind that squeaks when you squeeze its folds.

I’m sure you all know what I talking about. When you got to a store and all the blankets are there, neatly folded, on display. And you squeeze the corners to see if they squeak?

Okay, well I do.

And some of them do.

Squeak, I mean.

I had no idea this was an indicator that the blanket was 100% pure wool.

No idea at all.

I just knew the squeaky ones were very warm and cuddly. (See above.)

Soooo . . . purple blanket . . .

It had served as the main source of warmth (apart from Husby, who is a percolator) on our double bed for a couple of years.

When we upgraded to a queen size, sadly, the blanket no longer fit.

In the changeover, I decided Mr. Blanket needed a wash.

And yes, I know we should probably read tags.

Well I do now at any rate.

Into the washing machine and set to ‘warm’. (I’m not a complete ignoramus. I do know that very few things should be washed on ‘hot’.)

Okay, I’m a complete ignoramus.

A while later, I pulled from the washer a perfect ball of purple wool.

Only those of you who have witnessed this know just how matted real wool can get when It’s been stuffed into a washer.

Several feeling washed through me.

Shock. Dismay.

Disgust.

I managed to stretch it out and it functioned as a child’s drag-me-around TV blanket for several years.

But its days of real usefulness were at an end.

I’d like to say I learned something from this.

Woefully . . .

In my defense, I did read the tag on Husby’s sweater.

Mine was identical and I thought they were the same.

Not.

The story continues.

Sigh . . .