Ummm....er, hmm. Well. That...umm...that didn't work. Like, at all. I'm going to be in big trouble. In fact, I'm going to be in a big ol' massive heap of deadness. Actually, I'm starting to feel a little panicky. Just looking at it makes me feel a little faint.
I went to the store. But they didn't have anything to clean pashmina; just regular old washing detergent. So I was like, whatever, I'm not wasting my hard earned allowance on regular detergent. So I went home to use the stuff we already had. It was some kind of heavy duty stuff, but I figured, hey, it'll just make it cleaner, right?
Wrong. Oh, so very wrong. But that's not even the worst of it. After it was done in the washing machine, I gave it a good wring and put it out in the sun to dry. It looked a bit different than before I had put it in the washer but I thought it was just because it was wet.
Then I realized that it would never be dry in time if it was just laying in the sun so I brought it inside and threw it in the dryer. It came out looking a bit weird so I figured a good ironing would do the trick.
Anyway, there's a slim chance that Mum won't notice that all the fluffy tassels aren't fluffy anymore. And that they've all unravelled. And maybe she won't notice that it's sort of faded from before. I mean, she hasn't worn in it a while; maybe she can't remember what it looked like. It's now more of an 'It's a boy!' tye-dye blue than a "Beautiful-Jake-Eye" blue. I might be able to sew up some of the burn holes before she gets home and sees it; I took a clothing class in school and got an 86 in it, which is pretty darn good. Lucy only got 75.
Anyway, I'm doing some research on the internet, trying to find information on various convents and shelters for run-away children. Right now, I think that's my best bet.
I probably won't be having supper tonight. Which really sucks because we're having steak and corn on the cob and potatoes with sour cream and fried mushrooms and onions and caeser salad and...
...and I think I might die.