Sunday, July 19, 2009
No Wash-y the Towel-y or Drip Dry Will Growl-y
I always knew that raising our teenage daughters was tough on me.
But I never realized that it was driving my husband certifiably insane.
Isn't it always the way? You're so focused on your own troubles that you don't notice those around you crying out for help?
Just yesterday I walked into the laundry room to do some wash and Drip Dry came in all screaming-like. . . Whatever you do, don't wash those two towels!
Why can't I wash them? I asked innocently.
Because they're big and fluffy! he answered.
What's wrong with big and fluffy??? I inquired.
Nothing's wrong with big and fluffy, but you know our daughters. . . they use a towel once before discarding it for a freshly laundered one. They should be using the old threadbare ones until they learn to use a towel more than once!
But they can't stay here! I answered. They'll grow old and smelly.
Well, wash them if you must, he said, but then I'm hiding them!
And so it was that those towels went into hiding. . . along with the blueberries they ate too fast. . . and the chocolate he thought they consumed too much of. . . and the pine nuts that were way too expensive. . . and the Tassimo coffee pods they drank with abandon. . . and the tweezers they didn't appreciate. . .and the razor they stole that was his. . . and the mirror they got their grimy little fingerprints all over. . . and the soda cans they never finish. . . and the iHome they didn't treat correctly . . . and the. . .
Well, you get the picture. . .