Let me tell you about the time I almost threw away my favorite shirt.
It was this black linen blouse—light, breezy, and annoyingly expensive. One of those purchases you hesitate over… and then wear constantly once you give in.
Anyway, I was Cleaning the bathroom one afternoon, dressed in an old t-shirt, when a bit of bleach splashed onto my arm.
No big deal, right?
I Rinsed it off quickly, grabbed a towel, and wiped my arm. Then I froze.
Because I hadn’t grabbed a towel.
I’d wiped my arm on that blouse—hanging innocently on the back of the door.
There it was. A stark white splotch. Front and center.
I just stood there staring at it, like maybe—just maybe—it would fade away if I didn’t blink. It didn’t. I considered tossing it. I even briefly thought, “Could I pass this off as a design choice?”
