Can't Touch This

Damn it! Why don't I check to see if I have towels in the bathroom before I get in the shower? This is the second time in the last few days I've done this. Last time I was lucky, Mark had left a hand towel behind when he took the rest of the towels out to the wash. I was able to do a pretty good job of drying off with that little thing. This time however my only options are to either run out into the hallway naked, and dripping wet to get a fresh towel out of the closet, or use one of Mark's decorative towels.

Hanging from the main towel rack in the bathroom are Mark's special towels that are not to be used by anyone, at any time, ever. They are there only for show. Who the hell they are there to show off for, I don't know. It's not like we get hoity toity visitors every day, after all Lady Diana is dead, and she never did answer our invitation. After pondering the situation for two seconds, I decided that it didn't matter, I was wet, and the towels were dry. It turns out that lace and satin towels are lousy for drying off. They are very scratchy, and non-absorbent.

Mark isn't as bad as somebody else I know. This person has a beautiful house up in a Chicago suburb, with a beautiful living room that is only accessible if you are on her list. Otherwise you are ushered past the velvet rope that delineates the extent that commoners are allowed into her home, and on into the 'family' room. The living room is for her yearly Christmas display, or for that rare occasion that the Pope visits. At least I think that's who she's saving it for. Of course I am just kidding about my mother. We have all been allowed into her living room at least once in our lives. However, I now need to re-fold these towels I've screwed up before Mark sees them. He isn't kidding.