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.

He shrugs.

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.)

Posted on April 23, 2012, in Life and tagged , . Bookmark the permalink. 18 Comments.

  1. Mr Ninja uses my towel on a semi-regular basis. His excuse? “Your towel smells nicer!” Which is true, because I put on body butter then pat dry. It drives me crazy, but I’ve decided it’s a battle not worth fighting. Plus, he’s just so darn cute. Unless it’s a week when I’m using my favorite towel, then he best keep away.

  2. I could totally see this happening in my house. Yep.

  3. We have “our” towels, but I don’t even know how that came to be. It was never discussed, it just IS.

    “Unbeknownst to me, all this time I had been living in a free-lovin’, loose-moralled, anything-goes, towel orgy”

    Hahahaha. Have you seen the episode of New Girl where the guys are all using the same towel accidentally? Reminded me of this.

    • I also thought it had just come to be… turns out that it only came to be in my universe.

      Haven’t seen New Girl but that sounds very appropriate.

  4. Argh, Anonymous was me… I goofed something up when logging into wordpress. :P

  5. Hahaha I think I had this exact conversation, only flipped. :X My face wash has something in it that sometimes bleaches whatever it touches (yes, I realize what this probably means for the health of my face), so I don’t have the option of lying.The face-shaped bleach stain gives me away.

    • Oh my face is bleachy too. So annoying – forces me to avoid other people’s towels when we are visiting. But all our towels are white (no coincidence) so it doesn’t serve to identify our towels at home.

  6. Bahahaha!! This doesn’t happen in my house–C is insanely possessive of HIS towel. But we know which one is his because it’s unfolded and taking 7/8 of the towel rod. Ass. ;)

  7. omg the other day I noticed hubby’s toothbrush was missing and asked him where it was. he said he didn’t know (we have a toddler who runs off with everything). so I said welllll how have you been brushing your teeth? I did not like the answer. and he was actually offended that I thought him using my toothbrush was gross!!!

    p.s. LOVE the walking dead.

    • I was a little scared as soon as I saw “toothbrush.” That is one line that should not be crossed. Even in marriage. I don’t care if you exchange all the same germs on a regular basis anyway and technically speaking it’s no different – still gross!

  8. this is too funny! i am very particular about having my own towel, and i do not want to share it with anyone. that just grosses me out!

  9. Oh God! I also have the toothbrush story – except in my case it was one of my BROTHERS.


    Might be worth getting a different coloured towel for him. That’s what happens in my house or people get confused. Because I am clearly related to IDIOTS.

  10. I now store my toothbrush somewhere other than the bathroom. I am EWWWing again just thinking about it.

  11. This is hilarious! We don’t have the “which towel is mine again?” problem because we use different colored towels. And I hear you about the bleachy thing — that’s part of why I gave my bleachy face wash up. Because I wanted stain-free colored towels. Fairly demented, yes. But at least we cannot possibly mix ’em up.

  12. Oh, this made me laugh out loud. Multiple times.

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