This morning, I dragged myself out of my warm bed and then out of the semi-snug room where I sleep down to the frigid kitchen. I had a goal: raisin bread slices and a glass of cranberry juice. The electric kettle, my mug and tea bags were already upstairs on a little side table I keep up here for these cold months when I don’t like to venture downstairs into the chill for a cup of hot tea. All I had to do was get my juice and bread and get back up to the warmth and the book I intended to snuggle up with.
Half way up the stairs, I trip. Cranberry juice up and down the stairs. Said stairs are carpeted in a light beige.
This is not the first time I’ve dealt with this, although usually it’s red wine to blame. Towels are grabbed. Carpet blotted. Out comes the salt. My lazy morning reading upstairs is forgotten as I empty an entire box of salt over the stairs, realize I have no more, then suit up and run out to stock up. Several hours, vacuum sessions and reapplications of salt later….you really can’t see it. My morning was wasted, but the day was saved.
I’m a klutz. I trip and fall (often up stairs). I’m a menace to a white shirt. I can’t shave my legs without coming out looking like an extra from a horror flick. Train wreck.
Since, at this point, I’m probably never going to “get over this” and stop, y’know, dropping ink pens on my blouse or tripping while I’m carrying red wine over a white carpet, I’ve acquired a skill set that allows me to deal with the aftermath: stain fighting.
The salt trick, as I mentioned, has bailed me out several times. Then there’s the blood issue. Since I can’t seem to shave my legs without incident, I wind up with blood trailing down my ankles and onto carpets or bedding. When I catch it fast enough and there’s not a crime-scene amount to deal with, spitting on the spot and blotting it is, honestly, my best method. Seriously. For those times when I stand on the rug brushing my teeth while unknowingly bleeding out? Enzymatic contact lens solution has been incredibly handy. Hose it down. Blot. Repeat.
Ink is my other nemesis. I’m never without a pen, unfortunately when running too and from meetings, I sometimes forget to cap a pen and in hauling it around with my work notebook I wind up walking into the next meeting only to find that the pen has added some nice abstract art to the front of my shirt. Shit. This is the only reason I still keep hairspray in the house. Soak it in hairspray, blot with water. Repeat. It may take a while, but I’ve even gotten Sharpie out with this method.
I didn’t realize I was acquiring these random tidbits until I found myself spouting them to co-workers (especially that pen thing). At first I feared I was going a little too home-maker-hints-from-Heloise. I didn’t remember reading any of those household blogging sites my mother likes to check…..where was this coming from? While contemplating this development, I tripped, spilled tea all over my shirt and realized (as I drenched the stain in white vinegar and began blotting it with a wet washcloth), and then remembered exactly why I knew stuff like this.