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 . . .
