Sacrifices?

So far, I had sacrificed a slice of Marina's blue dresser and one of her shawls to the fire.

Yesterday, I am afraid, I sacrificed one of Marina's favorite sweaters to the water.

No, I did not throw it in the river as another offer to Iemanja, invoking her presence by my sister's bed.

I simply threw it in the washer with "colored cotton" by mistake.

That reminded me of the time I was seventeen, dealing with the responsibilities of a newborn baby and a household. My classmates were just worrying about math grades. I had to think about that too, since I had decided to keep on in school.

Obviously, with all those things to think about, I could not be just perfect.

Some small things got "sacrificed" in the process.

Particularly, week by week, I sacrificed the colors of different  clothes throwing them in the washer all together and starting the machine with the wrong program. Color separation appeared too hard to remember at that time.

So I ended up with a collection of pink-instead-of-white panties, purple-instead-of-yellow socks, and so on. I did not mind it enough to start paying more attention.

But my then-mother in law thought different of her son's Oxford button downs turning strange shades. She very delicately asked to help me "at least with laundry", claiming the shirts and the delicates to her own washer.

How relieving! I could not possibly plan it better.

At Marina's house, I don't have any mother in law to stop me from "sacrificing" here and there.

But Marina, who makes friends with everybody she deals with, has a friend who owns a dry cleaner.
Guess what? Giovanna la "tintora" (that's the word most used for dry cleaner in Italy) claimed Marina's sweaters to her shop and forbade me to wash them again, after witnessing my disastrous distraction.

Oh well. Free dry cleaning is not that bad.

Anyhow, here's my full confession, Marina. 

I swear I'll buy you three for each sweater I lost, as soon as you get out of that hospital.

You just make an effort to get out soon, sis, all right?