Never crying over spilt milk.

A couple of weekends ago, I attended a slumber party with some of the girls. It was a good time, but that's not the point of this post. At said slumber party, Kelly P accidently spilled some strawberry milk on my blanket. She apologized profusely, and I insisted it was no big deal. And she apologized again. And I again said it was ok. And we continued in the "I'm sorry/no really, it's ok" banter for a bit.

Later that day, I got home, blanket was washed, and no permanent damage was done. I even had the foresight to toss it in the trunk of the car so that I wouldn't be smelling it on the drive home. And yesterday, I changed my bedding and put the nice, clean, fluffy blanket on my bed. Few moments rival the feeling of sleeping in clean sheets for the first time after a washing. Then tonight, I came up to my room to go to bed, and in the middle of clean, fluffy blanket is a nice pile of cat vomit courtesy of my mom's cat.

Feel better about that milk Kel?