I really don't like this story much, but others seem to find it hilarious, so if you haven't heard it yet, I guess you're in for a treat.
Tristin was still pretty small - maybe about 4months- ish. Anyway, I was in the middle of HUGE amounts of laundry. Maura was just being about as busy as busy can be, and causing all sorts of mayhem. Tristin was fussy, and would not be calmed. He was on a bouncy seat on the kitchen table. I had moved a rather large load of assorted items from the washer to the dryer, and while in the middle of this process, I decided that it just didn't smell clean. As I began to sort out the offending odor, I thought it smelled an awful lot like... poop. I did find a stray wipe (one that missed the trash in the kids' room)that had gotten washed with the clothes, and I picked it out. I also figured that it could probably be one of the kids, since they do have a way with the stink. I started the dryer and began to smell out the stinky child.
After changing Tristin, I went back to the laundry, and began to wash another load. As I opened the door, the smell had not gone away, but actually got worse... I really didn't want to open the dryer. It was in slow motion. Like in a horror movie, and you just know that the headless body will be in the closet, don;t open it! It's there! Don't do it! STOP!!! Well, I think right about then I would have preferred a decapitated person to what awaited me behind the warm, small door.
Let me pause. From here on out, the word "poop" will now be referred to as IT throughout the remainder of this post. It's not that I care one way or the other about the word itself (poop, poop, poop... see?), but it is kind of gross. And I was slightly traumatized that day!
IT was IN MY DRYER! I was first disgusted, completely, then really embarrassed, and finally super mad, because I realized what I must now do. As I peered into the little, dark space, I saw that not only was IT on the laundry, but also smeared around the actual dryer itself. It had, after all, been tumbling for a good 10 minutes and at high temperatures.
Well, one item at a time, I started putting each article back into the washer, and with a free hand, with the help of Clorox wipes, removed and pieces of IT that may be passing by. Well, Maura did not take kindly to this pre-occupation, so she was getting in a mood. I filled up a small bucket with warm water, and put it on a spare sheet in the middle of the kitchen with some toys - she loves water. So she was busy, but Tristin was still fussy, but the laundry needed me more at that point.
So I'm stooped on the floor of my tiny laundry room, weeding out clothes, IT, and trying to clean the inside of the dryer. So I finally got the dryer empty & clean - with the help of a lot of hot water, bleach, etc. So I turned my attention to the load that now has to be washed... again.
I couldn't just wash it. I decided to bleach it. I had some bleach that I had used before, bu it had been a while. I thought it was color safe. I called my mom, cried, told her about IT, and asked about the bleach. Well, my mother & I communicate. A lot. This is good, but given the frequency of our communications, it only stands to reason that the frequency of misunderstandings would be a bit more abundant as well. One of us will say something, the other responds, we talk for a while, and then realize that we were totally on different pages. Well, I asked if she though the bleach was color safe. It didn't say that it was, but it didn't say contrary. I told her this and asked if it was OK to use on colors, or just whites... she said that since it didn't say that it probably was... white only.
Only she didn't say "white only." That's what she meant, but I heard it as, if it didn't say, then it's probably OK for colors. Remember the horror movie slow motion that I had experienced? Well, it happened again. The killer got Marsha and now he was after Ricky. As I began to pour in the bleach (why I put in directly onto the clothes, I still do not know why) I noticed that Maura's bright purple pants were now a lovely bright purple AND PINK tie-dye. I couldn't stop. It was as if my hand was possessed and there was nothing I could do. I just kept right on pouring the bleach into that washer, hoping I could stop, or at least wake up from this nightmare of laundry headaches. Well, I did stop... when I was out of bleach to pour. I was almost in tears.
Almost, that is, until I heard Maura from the kitchen say, "Uh-oh." I looked out, and there was about a gallon and a half of water all over my kitchen floor. I was tired. I was achy. I had an inch of water on my kitchen floor. Tristin was crying. My wash was now poopy & changing color.
Now I cried.
I still haven't recovered from this. Although we did get a lot of good puns & whatnot from it. Anyway, may you always know the difference between color safe bleach & white only, may you not give your children water unattended, and may you never have poop in your dryer. Or washer.