magic sunshine

via

There's a hair salon up here that sends out an email every morning with open appointments for that day and if you take one, you'll get 20% off your service. Seeing as how I haven't had a haircut since before Jack was born, it was time.

The mane. It was unruly.

I was a little rushed to make it on time because Jack decided he wanted a leisurely lunch and then I got stuck behind a school bus and then I turned right instead of left and then I had to hurryhurryhurry to get Jack strapped into his stroller because I knew he'd be happier there than in the carseat while I was getting my hair did. By the time I walked inside, I was all out of breath and sweaty and talking fast because that's what I do when I'm stressed. Then I sat down down and noticed that I had paint in my hair and an orangish stain on my pink and white shirt.

Hot. Mess.

But this story is about the stain. I suspect that it was from the lilies that were in the bouquet of flowers my parents sent for my anniversary. Or it was baby poop.

I really hope it was the lilies, so let's just go with that.

Anyway, when I got that shirt out of the dryer yesterday, the stain was still there. Did I mention that the shirt was new and I'd only worn it once?

The shirt was new and I'd only worn it once.

When I noticed the stain, I groaned because a) the shirt was new and I'd only worn it once and b) I was reminded of how momish I felt that day at the salon, all frazzled and disheveled with questionable stains on my shirt.

So I draped the shirt over the chair in the sunroom to see if the stain could be bleached out. Did you know the sun can do that? It's magic like that. And as of this morning, the stain is officially gone.

Consider that your helpful tip for the week.

The end.