Neat Conclusions With Bleach
One of the things that was waiting for me when I moved into our first apartment was a bottle of bleach. You see, Just’In moved into our first apartment a few months before we were married. He and his two roommates were all coming to life-changing events, and one of them happened to get married first. And then another one decided he was going to go on a mission for our church.
The married guy moved out in May. And the two guys left over still had to have somewhere to live until August. So Just’In moved into a one-bedroom with the remaining guy until Just’In got married. And when August came and our honeymoon was over, I moved in.
When one goes on a mission, one doesn’t take too many of his belongings with him. One knows he will be gone for at least 18 months, but one also knows that all the belongings have to fit in suitcases. So one leaves behind stuff like furniture and bleach, even if they are everyday items. And if one knows one will be gone for two years, the knowledge of the adventure ahead is huge compared to where bleach goes.
So he left it in the apartment he was staying in. Just’In doesn’t use bleach in his laundry, but his roommate did on a regular basis. I used a little bit of it to intentionally stain a shirt of mine. And since I started doing the laundry at the beginning of this year, I’ve used the bleach, too. Just to get rid of it.
I used the last 3/4 cup of it today. I brought my 1/4 measuring cup with me to the laundry room, and the last little bit in the bottle came very neatly to the rim of the measuring cup.