dictation's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- If Luminol could detect dye... spatters of blue would reveal themselves everywhere... I have wasted an entire night dying four articles of clothing. It all started innocently enough Friday morning when, with practical intentions, I threw some white hand washables in a Rubbermaid basin to soak for the day. I got home late Friday night and discovered portions of these whites had blue splotches on them. Turns out I'd unknowingly included a thick black cotton sock - that had unfixed dye. When it finally dawned on me that cursing wasn't going to solve the problem, I turned to the kitchen drawer assigned to hold random and assorted, old and forgotten, mainly petrified shit. Batteries that no longer work, that flashlight from summer camp, instructions for the stove that weren't read even when the stove was new, calcified breast tissue. You know the one.
(Flyladies can leave this journal right now!) (Ok, a glance at my gbook and allow me to interject long after the fact. That last item doesn't exist and I don't know why it entered my brain...but I have an idea the reason has something to do with sleep deprivation. I'm not one of those!!! Internet people.) And there, in the seldom entered drawer, I found, as I knew I would - (thank you, Reptilian Brain Cell) - ancient boxes of RIT dye. Handily, one was Dark Navy. It would do. Whipping on yellow rubber gloves I proceeded with the task, much like one of the Witches of Macbeth at the stew pot. Only with less competence and conviction. I thought I had the dying part under control. But then some of it spattered on the tiles around the tub and on the plastic shower curtain liner. Easy peasy, I sprayed it all off. Ah, but then it somehow got all over the hand-held shower nozzle. Ok, so I rinsed that and it sprayed back on to the tiles and the grout. Tiles are no problem, grout is impossible to clean. I am fastidiously flyladyish when it comes to the tiles in the bathroom, wiping them down after every shower to prevent mildew. (I never use Tilex if I can help it as it erodes grout and loosens tiles! It also probably launches free radicals in the blood stream...no thanks.) The chaos of dye particles in the tub area finally under control, I proceeded to leave the bathroom to do something else. On my way out I discovered that blue dye had mysteriously found its way to the sink. A spot appeared on the sink rim, then the vanity, then the wall. I started going mental with cleaning. Finally the time came to rinse the damn clothing. It took THREE HOURS! I could not get the dye out of the clothing. I didn't have any salt. And vinegar, as a means to fix dye - so the Internet informed me at 3:30 Saturday morning - is a myth. Particularly for cottons. 4-farking-30 in the morning and I decided to throw out the t-shirt; a favourite memento, it has Tina on it. It just wouldn't stop bleeding. I knew I'd never be able to trust the dye job. (I was crestfallen, but never mind. I have oodles of t-shirts with Tina on them. If you don't know who Tina is you haven't been paying attention. No, I'm not gay. Neither is Tina, all 8500 pachydermal pounds of her, as far as I know.) The underwear stopped bleeding, but all three pairs have the appearance of a bad tie-dye job. I'm keeping them because they are BRAND NEW, they appeared to stop bleeding and I have plenty of dark pants I can wear them under. But I feel I've ruined my weekend. Now I'll sleep late, feel wretched when I wake up, and not be able to fulfill some of my original plans. Damn those kitchen drawers anyway. And just as I am preparing to drift off, let's have a round of applause for Dawn. For She has Awakened the Crows! 3:58 a.m. - 12 June 2004 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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