because it pitted me.
Specifically, it pitted my brand-new blue dress shirt that I bought yesterday afternoon, wearing it home from the store-- when I was doing a wash this morning I decided that I could just wear the shirt another day, so I did my wash, didn’t spill jackshit as far as I could tell, and when I left the laundry room, there were bleach pittings all over the front.
What, am I supposed to do my laundry naked or something? FUUUUUUCK!
That’s why I don’t use bleach. Bleach is evil. It doesn’t matter how careful you are, it still gets all over everything you don’t want it on. Or maybe it’s just because I’m a klutz.
Since your shirt’s ruined anyway, I think you should go all the way and tie-dye it with bleach.
I learned about this the hard way, too. I now have an old lab coat which I throw on before I do laundry (but any old jacket with thickly woven cloth, or an old bathrobe or raincoat, will do).
I put it at the bottom of the stairs and now it’s almost automatic to throw it on over my clothes before I start to do laundry. It’s saved me quite a few outfits.
I’m going to defend bleach. I love bleach. However, that could be because I am obsessive about disinfecting.
I would like to join in the choir of “Screw bleach.” Yes, it’s handy. It makes my whites white and beautiful, but it ALWAYS gets on what I don’t want it to touch.
Damn you, bleach! Curse you! Yes, you know why. My new, beautiful, black, Gap tank top now has orange spots…I BLAME YOU!
Ahem…sorry!
What on earth are you people doing in that laundry room, anyway? Are you playing the soundtrack from Saturday Night Fever while you twist and spin Travolta-like with a bottle of bleach in your hand, happily sloshing it about on the walls, floor, curtains, and cat in a disco-induced trance? I’ve been using the stuff on my whites for over 35 years, and I’ve never once spilled it on myself or anything else.
Good Lord, get a grip, people. It’s a mundane laundry product, used by millions the world over every day without undue trauma.
Okay, then, everybody, with me:
“Well, you can tell by the way I use my walk,
I’m a woman’s man—no time to talk…”
All I’ll say is watch out for Softscrub with bleach–I have ruined more than one shirt while scrubbing the tub with that product…
Maybe you guys have the dreaded bleach gremlins? They love to destroy NEW clothing–never the old, worn out stuff.