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Big Girls [do] Cry

I am very particular about the way I wash, dry, fold, and hang my clothes.

I am a loyalist to Tide-original scent.  It costs an arm and a leg, but it’s worth every scent because your clothes always smell like fresh cotton laundry and are as clean as the day you bought them.

I obsessed with dryer sheets, I throw in at least two per cycle.  I like my clothes soft, and a few extras never hurt.

I am careful about what I hang and what I dry.  (This is where the real story begins.) I always put my jeans in the dryer because they generally loosen up after I wear them, plus I like how soft they are after a nice ride in the dryer.  But lately, they’ve been fitting a little snug.  So, to combat that revolting process, I decided to hang them up.

Bad news bears.  Stiff jeans not only feel incredibly awful, but they also are a recipe for disaster.

So, I have this old pair of jeans.  Dark wash, perfect fit with a little stretch.  I always take care of them with my Tide detergent and dryer sheets.  I loved them so much I even bought a second pair back a few months ago, but the second pair just wasn’t the same.

Well this great pair of jeans was one of the unlucky ones that were hung up in agony. And unfortunately, that act led to its death this morning.

The crispy denim scratched my dry Utah skin as I put one leg inside.  I continued putting my other leg into the pants and, for some reason, some awful reason, my pants ripped. Oh, it wasn’t just a little hole down where no one see and where I could pretend the rip didn’t exist.  Nope. It just had to be a rip that started at the crotch and went half way down to the knee.

Needless to say, I got very emotional and threw a little tantrum (good thing TJ wasn’t there to see it). And although acting out like a child did ease the pain, I’m still quite bitter about the entire situation.

Why didn’t I just dry the pants and stick to my normal routine?