When something is spilled, it is either I who has spilled
or someone else has spilled on me.
I have learned to face the ugly truth:
I am a mess-magnet.
If you hear a crash in a restaurant, you can be sure that I am sitting nearby. When my dog hears me squeal "Oh no!" she makes a beeline for wherever I am, knowing that she might get a lucky mess to slurp off the floor.
This week, I exchanged an ill-fitting Christmas gift for a pretty new coat. I have always had black coats, yet for some reason, this pale pink faux shearling caught my eye. My daughter said it's the ugliest thing she's ever seen (she hates pink), and my husband thought it looks like pigskin, no not football pigskin leather, but a real pig's skin. Despite their blistering fashion critique, I loved it.
I wore it the next day. As we were returning home, my husband asked me if I knew that there was blue ink all over the front of the brand new coat. The blood drained from my face when I saw the mass of squiggley road-map-blue lines staining the front of the coat. "That's why you always have black coats," said my astute husband.
So to deal with the crisis, I sought wise, experienced counsel.
Unfortunately, the trip to the dry cleaners confirmed my worst suspicions.
There was no hope.
On my laundry room shelf was a product that had worked for me before (remember I am Stains 'R Us).
Carbona Stain Devils