Last night, after a long day of doing chores* around the house and preparing for an intimidating meeting I had at work this morning, I decided to end my day with a nice hot shower. We’ve recently been watching The Walking Dead (Lost but with a zombie apocalypse instead of a plane crash) and it glamorizes the hot shower so much that I have gained a renewed appreciation of late.
I went to grab my fresh-out-of-the-dryer towel from the hook behind our bedroom door, expecting to sink my hands into soft, fresh cottony warmth. Instead I meet vaguely damp coldness. Ugh. This is not the stuff of laundry detergent commercials. Where is my kitteny-soft hug? Towels dry slowly here on the eternally damp West Coast so I’m not unaccustomed to this icky finding, but dammit, today I did laundry and I should be hugged in squeaky-dry cotton right now!
I turn on my heel to face my primary suspect, who is sprawled out on the unmade bed. “Did you use my towel??”
John looks at me, all freshly shaved** innocence. “No! Well maybe.“
“What do you mean ‘maybe’? Did you use it or not?”
“Well I used A towel.”
“Why would you use mine when yours is right here?” I say, gesturing toward the other white towel hanging on the hooks, still immaculate and virgin.
I wonder about the side effects of the muscle relaxants he took earlier.
And then a sliver of light appears under the solid door of marital incomprehension: “You DO realize we have designated towels right? That this one hanging over my robe is MY towel and the one hanging over your robe is YOUR towel?”
“I have a robe?”
For the briefest moment I sincerely doubted the foundations of our household and indeed, the very existence of possessions. Only the slightest glint in his eye told me that last part was a joke, but the sheepish look gave away the fact that he had not actually realized until this moment that the towels were supposed to have their own designated users. Unbeknownst to me, all this time I had been living in a free-lovin’, loose-moralled, anything-goes, towel orgy.***
All right then. As long as we’re on the same page.*In which chores also include Titanic 3D and a hockey game.
**His play-off beard barely had a chance to take root before it was shaved off this year. I guess there really is a silver lining to everything.
***Do your worst Google. (Image source.)