Even on the best of days, I'm kind of a messy person. I spill things on myself or splash things that wind up as spots on my clothes. Bleach and Oxy-Clean are my good friends. (Johnnie tells me that I'm the messiest teeth brusher he's ever been around. Oh well, nobody's perfect!) So I have learned when we're traveling to always wear dark colored shirts or sweaters so I can hide minor stains that appear out of nowhere.
Except when I was packing for our trip to Cleveland a few weeks ago, I didn't heed my own advice and packed a white t-shirt. I ended up wearing it on Sunday as we traveled home with a small U-Haul trailer in tow carrying the bottom part of our new entertainment center. (We tend to shop and buy everything from furniture to clothes out of town and then figure out creative ways to get them home. We once brought two Eames-like recliners and ottomans back from Cherry Hill, New Jersey in a 1997 Civic. Cozy.) I digress.
Granted, I packed for the trip in about five minutes and with little focused thought about what I was actually taking. One pair of jeans, a couple shirts, necessary underwear and we're outta here. We're still living out of laundry baskets and tipsy piles shoved into closets since our bedroom is still uninhabitable so I'm surprised (and lucky) I found anything reasonable to wear.
Anyway, I thoughtlessly wore the white t-shirt home. Just after we got on the road, I looked down to see two smallish coffee stains on my left, um, breasticle, forming a pretty perfect target in the nipplish area. What the heck?? How did they get there? Must have been some drops from my coffee mug. Argh. When we stopped at the next rest area (we were stopping at just about every one to check the trailer to make sure the tires weren't overheating and everything was riding well) I dabbed at the spots and made them less brownish but still noticeable - and now they were wet as well.
Shortly after our pit stop, I was sipping some iced tea and dribbled it down my chin. Onto my nice white shirt. Double arghh.
Still later as we rounded the bend past Buffalo, I took the lid off my mug and somehow dribbled even more coffee down the center of my shirt, looking somewhat like a Rorschach test blob. At this I gave up and just left them alone until we got home. As I took the first load of things upstairs, I changed my shirt immediately and vowed once again to never wear anything but black tops for traveling. Now if only I remember the next time we go anywhere!
1 comment:
Well, if it was only one dribble I'd say to turn the t-shirt inside out. But since you admit to several you might need a traveling bib. Maybe with the saying, "I'm not messy, I just have a hole in my chin!"
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