The White Pants

The white pants had a stubborn stain, shan't go into details. Hasten to add they are not my white pants (I profess to not own a single white piece of clothing). So, anyway, I had agreed to wash them in an attempt to get the stain out. I tossed in some dirty tea towels (wouldn't want to run the washing machine empty). A quick wash at 40 degrees didn't help. So I did a pre-wash, 90 degrees. (Fool). The pants came out clean, but a particular shade of pale pink. Pesky tea towels. Panic. New white pink pants. Put them in a weak bleach solution until they looked, well, better. Pink sheen had gone. Pleased with myself I put them back in the wash, dried them in the sunshine. Folded them up ready for collection.

When he came I decided not to tell the boyfiend the trials and tribulations. He picked them up and the first thing he said was, "you made my pants pink...", I ignored him and walked into the kitchen, "... and you weren't going to tell me!"

Oops caught.