Bleaching Ben

Growing up, I was always taught by my mom that bleach ruins stuff; to be really careful with it. When I took a cooking class in junior high, I learned about bleach first-hand. My teacher was really into using bleach water to clean up after our cooking forays, and some dude splashed bleach on me when he was preparing the water, leaving a trail of white spots down one leg of my jeans. I was so weird; I thought my jeans looked cooler that way, and I wore those jeans forever.

When I struck out on my own, I just never bought bleach. I figured the dangers outweighed the benefits. There was no way I was going to ruin the clothes and towels and washcloths I had worked for and spent good money on. But the first time I smelled a musty washcloth that still smelled musty after a good washing, I realized the error of my ways and became a bleach fan.

But ya gotta be careful with the bleach, dude. I always dilute it before I put it in with my laundry, and I always wait until the load is in that soapy, wiggly phase in my washer. I try to only bleach my whites and my towels; I've learned that bleach turns tan things into pink things. And purple things into pink things. And red things into pink things.

Ben is also a fan of bleach, but he is still a little confused about its inherent dangers. When we were first married, we had two dogs. And our lab, Gromit, was really sick and barfed and diarrhea'd all over our light purple carpet in our apartment. Ben said he'd clean it up, which was really nice of him. Then I saw him getting the bleach out and warned him.

Me: Dude, don't even use diluted bleach on that carpet, or you will ruin it. It will take the color right out.

Ben: No it won't. Trust me.

Me: Whatever. You can work extra to pay for them to replace the carpet when we move.

So he put straight bleach on the carpet spots, and we had white carpet spots for the next year. We had to pay extra for them to replace the carpet. And we also had to pay extra for them to replace some of the siding on our porch. Which is a whole other Ben-related story.

About a month ago, Ben got on this laundry kick. The thing you have to understand about Ben is that he gets on these kicks, and that's all he thinks about, talks about, and does for about two weeks. Then the kick disappears. Remember his cleaning kick? After two weeks, it disappeared. Unfortunately.

Ben decided he needed to bleach our duvet cover. And here are the results:

Ben is no longer on his laundry kick, but I'm kind of glad. My laundry is piled up downstairs (Nat and I call piled-up laundry "Mt. Laundruvius"), but I'm okay with that. As long as it's not getting ruined.