Three.
That's how many bras my washing machine chewed up and spit out in the last 5 days.
That's how many fewer bras I now have...at a loss of about $150 (plus or minus the cost of inflation since I bought these beloved support systems).
And it's roughly the number of bras a certain two-year-old owes me since she's the most likely culprit in the case of the washer being mysteriously turned up to 500 million degrees. AKA the exact temperature to completely dissolve, dismantle, discolor, and dismember a bra.
That is, of course, unless my fabulous kitty somehow grew opposable thumbs, opened the laundry closet, and turned up the heat herself.
But that's unlikely.
Pay up, kid. You're starting to really cost me.
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