"Out, Damned Spot!"

"And what do we have here?" 

Lurking about my brother's kitchen one Friday night, I discovered a forgotten pot on the back of the cold stove. Within was a wedge of divine, oily potato kugel, my great love and nemesis. 

Wishing to avoid inquisitive questions from my tablemates—and worse, the polite requirement to share—I tore off an edge and nibbled it where I stood. 

I watched, in horror, as a glob of grease dropped . . . right onto my skirt. My bright-hued, cotton, long-enough-without-being-yachnish skirt. D'OH! 

Come os, damage control! First, I sprinkled some D.E. on the stain, and let it sit overnight. I think it sucked out a good amount of grease, lessening my work. 

There are a number of stain removers in my laundry room; I selected Spray & Wash ("with Resolve power!") as my first champion. I followed the directions diligently, then rinsed off the spot (the skirt is officially dry-clean). 

The stain was fainter, but still obviously there. Next knight? 

OxiClean! Again, a diligent following of instructions, then a messy rinse of the area. 

When I came back a few hours later, expecting to have to do another treatment, I couldn't find the stain. I looked for it, up and down. There wasn't even any discoloration of the fabric. I couldn't believe it. It was gone, like the potato kugel never happened.

On the skirt, that is. The calories is something else.