It’s far from any kind of revelation to confess that I’m as cheap as they come. I fix instead of replace, I cook almost exclusively from scratch and I garbage pick for both personal use and profit. All without shame. So when I spied a sopping wet bundle of fabric in the Fred Meyer parking lot, I walked over for further investigation. (Keep in mind that in Portland, Oregon we’re pretty much always “sopping wet.”) The dripping item turned out to be an American Apparel T-shirt featuring a large key graphic on the front. My 17-year-old son was clear about how it wasn’t his style, (preppy jock) but it looked to be in perfect condition, so I flung it into the back of the car where it landed with a satisfying “thwap.”
I forgot about my moistened treasure until this morning when my son and I started joking about it might have been from a “wet T-shirt contest.” Sure enough, the shirt was still in the back of the car, and you don’t need to be told that it was still wet.
Wet shirt in back of car:
Result of wet T-shirt in back of car:
It was no biggie to throw it into the wash. (I always have enough dirty laundry in the house to justify a load.) The shirt is now washed and ready for a new owner. I’ll give my son first dibs when he comes home from school, but it’ll likely go into the pile of stuff I’ve put aside for the consignment shop. Will I make any money for my efforts? Maybe yes, maybe no, but certainly more than if I’d simply ignored it in the first place.
Look how well it cleaned up:
No shame in my game, people. No shame in my game.
“Use it up, wear it out, make it do or do without.”
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