IT'S in MY ROOM

When she was about 13 years old, Julie used to come home from school and every day she would take her anger out on me. She used to throw things at me. Just small things, like her pencils, an eraser or a comb. According to her, everything that was unpleasant or completely wrong in her life was my fault. It was my fault that she didn't have dark hair, or brown eyes. It was my fault she didn't need glasses or braces on her teeth. It was my fault that her best friend (that day) didn't want to be her best friend any more.
It was my fault that we didn't have a dog named Daisy. It was my fault she had a "stupid" brother instead of a sister she could do things with.
One day she came home, threw her pencil in my direction and just started screaming. I just stood there and listened until she got to the part about "and another thing mother, you never do anything for me".
On that particular day I reminded her that I did quite a few things for her every day---one of them being her laundry. On that day I informed her she would be doing her own laundry from that day forward.
So for the last six or seven years she has done her own laundry.
A few weeks ago I asked to borrow one of her sweaters. Since I wore it I decided to wash it for her.
We have hard water so when I wash white clothes I use an additive to remove rust from the water and it keeps our white clothes white.
The sweater I borrowed from my daughter was off-white, but the sweater I pulled out of the dryer was bright white. I knew she would be very angry with me. I worried all day about how to tell her. Finally, I decided just to hold it up in front of me when she came home. She walked in the door, I help it up and she said, "Oh, thanks Mom for washing my white sweater. I wanted to wear that one tonight. The one you wore is off-white, it's upstairs in my room."