Glad for comfortable couches, because I might have to sleep there for the rest of my life.

Last fall when Andrew drug us all on his annual salmon fishing trip and we actually had a very good time, both he and I brought home a souvenir to remind us of something that we missed about the Northwest. I bought a hooded sweatshirt from Mo's seafood restaurant in Cannon Beach, Oregon, and Andrew sweet-talked an old friend who works at G-Loomis in Woodland and got a G-Loomis sweatshirt for $21.

We brought our sweatshirts home and grinned in comfortable joy every time we wore them.

Which for Andrew was about three times before I accidentally put his sweatshirt in the dryer and shrunk it.

I felt horrible, and a little afraid, because he was going to find out and be so very, very upset. Turns out that, yeah, he was a bit sad, but he didn't get angry with me at all. And that made me feel worse because his wrath would have alleviated some of my guilt.

I put the sweatshirt through the wash again and then stretched it as far as I could without tearing the seams. He can still wear it, but not in public so much. It's a little short and small and sad.

For Christmas, I bought Andrew a BYU hoodie to make up for shrinking his G-Loomis hoodie. And then this morning, I was rotating the wash and found that I had done it again. I put his BYU hoodie in the dryer, too!

You know that feeling that you get when you do something really stupid, and while it's not a huge deal, it becomes the most frustrating thing imaginable when you do it again and again? I hate that feeling.

And now I'm a little afraid again. Not because I think that Andrew will lay into me for being careless, because he's not like that, but I can already see the disappointment on his face when he finds out. I hate being the cause of his disappointment.

I think I'll try to stretch this one, too, and then hang it in the closet and not say a word. Maybe he won't notice that it's become a short-sleeved sweatshirt?