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devil duck

i r doofus

So we've got a bunch of La Belle Compagnie friends coming over this weekend. Company is always a good way of forcing ourselves to clean house, and in particular I decided to take on the mildew on the bathroom ceiling, which has been getting gradually more visible and annoying for months. I had spritzed it with a variety of mold-remover products before, without much result, but this time I decided to scrub a spot immediately after spritzing, and it actually came off! Yay! (I had previously been giving the mold-remover some time to dry, so I wouldn't have to breathe the fumes at close range, and more often than not forgetting to come back and scrub it at all; I guess I figured the mold-remover would have some kind of growth-retardant effect. In fact, this only gets the mildew angry.) So I grabbed safety goggles, rubber gloves, dust mask, deep-sea-diving suit, etc. and set to work on the rest of the bathroom ceiling, with reasonable success.

Then I looked down. A bunch of clothes were piled on a standing towel-rack in the bathroom, right underneath the toxic rainfall of mold-remover, and one pair of pants seemed to already be covered with little pink spots that hadn't been there before... e.g. when shalmestere bought them... the day before yesterday, in a bit of a shopping coup. They had been worn once.

On the plus side, they seem to have given their lives to protect the rest of the clothes in the pile -- after evacuating all the clothes to another room for triage, I didn't see any damage to the rest. The pants in question are in the washing machine, in an attempt to dilute the stuff as quickly as possible with cold water, but I'm not optimistic.

Maybe the rest of the day's cooking and cleaning will go better....


(looks at bottle... "Active Ingredient: Bleach")

I did something simila to a pair of my best pants once at work, cleaning out a mini-fridge in my office.


No, you aren't--"Doofus" doesn't even begin to cover it >:-/

Don't expect me home early to help with the cleaning--it sounds as if I'll need to do some shopping....

I think you're underestimating the seriousness of new pants...
I think you're right.
I imagine that in order for a man to fully comprehend that a "shopping coup" is not to be taken lightly, a man would in fact have to have no pants, and then find that all the stores are full of overpriced, poorly-made pants made in fabrics and colors which no sane man would wear, and THEN discover that all the allegedly "34 average" pants do not in fact fit his known "34 average" body, and THEN discover that "34 average" is the largest size they make, and THEN repeat the experience every day for six months, and THEN find wearable pants, and THEN go back to the store TWO DAYS LATER and find out those pants have been discontinued.

(I am ridiculously proud of my run-on sentence...)
Oh, yes, I've seen all that -- not much of it has happened to me, but it's all happened to my wife in my presence.

I've had some "shopping coups" myself: finding fully-lined gray felted-wool pants (with winter coming on) in my post-Atkins size, marked down to $15 or so; finding really good-looking beet greens two days before I wanted to make Menagier spinach tarts for company; finding fabric that's a spot-on match for the 15th-century picture whose clothing we're trying to replicate; etc.

I think for most men it's less likely to happen with regard to clothing, because less of men's lives is spent in pursuit of that quest (people pay more attention to women's appearance than to men's; men's clothing is more interchangeable and less memorable, so men don't need as many outfits; there are fewer variables differentiating one man's body shape from another's, so it's easier to find a correct fit; etc. etc.)

I think most men go shopping for clothes only when our current clothes have fallen apart or no longer fit, and then the goal is to find a functional replacement for that particular item. Note "functional": it doesn't have to look the same, it just has to serve the same purpose.
Please note that you do not, in fact, speak for "most men." You work in an environment in which no one gives a rat's patoot how you look, as long as you adhere to currently-accepted standards of hygiene. You could show up (and probably have) dressed like the winos that sleep in the Port Authority bus terminal, and no one would bat an eyelash.

It might not be to the same extent as what women suffer, but men go through Shopping Angst, too: I've heard men complain about looking for a conservative business suit when all the stores have is European Cut that won't fit American Stocky, or zoot suits in pimp colors; or trying to find a pair of black pants that don't look like flamenco wear; or hanging on to that "lucky" sweater for years because they'll never find another one like it....