I have one, white undertank that I pretty much can't live without. But it was comprimised one weekend when Chris and I were staying at a hotel.
I got really hungry, and I convinced him we needed chicken fingers from the lobby restaurant. I offered to pick them up.
I got 'em, and on the elevator on the way up, I started nibbling. They were so delicious, and it had been so long since I'd tasted food like this, that I couldn't stop eating them. By the time I got to our floor, I had finished all three! So, being the little sh** I was that evening, I left the basket on top of the trash can outside of the elevator, brushed off my hands, and walked in the hotel room.
"Where are they chicken fingers?" Chris inquired.
"The restaurant, they were - um," I shook my head and shruggged my shoulders. Luckily, Chris didn't ask any follow up questions.
The next morning when we woke up, I rolled over and looked at my awakening husband.
"I've got a confession," I say shyly. "I ate the chicken fingers. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm Sorry!"
He was confused. "The chicken fingers...?"
"I said the restaurant was out of 'em, but I really just ate them before I got to the room," I confessed, humiliated.
He busted up laughing. "Well, I was wondering about that. When I asked you where they were, you just kind of didn't answer me! I can't believe you ate them!" More laughs.
As if the shame wasn't enough of a punishment, in my haste, I had spilled ketchup on my shirt, staining my beloved white tank. I washed it multiple times after that, but still, that faint scarlet letter remained.
One day, I had a lightbulb moment. White shirt, white VINEGAR? Would that work? I gave it a try, and voila! No more stain.
|Soaked the ketchup stain in white vinegar for a couple hours.|
|Nice and white again!|