Wiped Out

Did you ever watch old movies or family sitcoms, and when there’s a scene in the bathroom, you’ll see towels marked “HIS” and “HERS”? Whatever happened to that? In my house, there is no towel protocol or hierarchy. It’s a literal free-for-all.

My mom, who lives with us, has her own bathroom, and for some reason she likes to use the beach towel-sized variety. That’s a lot of fabric for a very petite lady. I never see those towels in my bathroom. Probably never will. Our 15-year-old daughter shares the master bathroom with my wife and me. That’s because my wife has a makeup vanity for her to utilize. So, in my shower, unless there’s a fresh towel, all the towels are coated with different stages of removed makeup – eye liner, eye shadow, foundation, blush, literally a rainbow of colors in splotches all over the towels. I’ve gotten quite used to it, and am just satisfied using any towel that happens to be hanging on the rack.

The other Sunday, I decided to give our dog, Buddy, a bath. I do it in our tub, since we have a handheld showerhead in there. I’ll do the initial drying with any towel on the rack and then throw it in the wash. He never gets completely dry that way, and my mom solves that. She puts a fresh towel on the living room carpet and Buddy rolls around on it until he’s dry. All this is going on while I return to the shower to clean up. When I got out of the shower, I had not replaced the towel I just used for Buddy. Luckily, I spotted a towel near the vanity. It was damp, but I used it anyway.

I walked out of the room with the towel around me and my mom looked at me and said, “Why are you using Buddy’s towel? I just hung it up in your room to dry.” My head nearly exploded, “I’m the man of this house! You mean to tell me that I can’t have my own freaking towel? I have to use Buddy’s used wet towel?” My wife came running to see what the commotion was all about. I’m pretty sure she was trying to hold back laughter, and that just made it worse. I yelled, “Honey, why can’t I have my own towel? Is that too much to ask?”

She very calmly put her hands on my shoulders, looked me in the eyes and said, “From now on, you can have your own towels. They’re called Bounty.”