There are two kinds of people in this household.
There is the oblivious, you are there to serve me, I see nothing wrong with this picture.
You have supplied me with clean towel.
And then there is me.
I am compelled. Compelled to straighten this.
But there’s more…
After all these years I have finally reached the Matching Towels Status.
There are the big, fluffy, smells slightly like bleach heaven, cream colored towels and then there are these, the hard to find, hard to describe cranberry/not quite burgundy/not red, not magenta, maybe claret or oxblood, big fluffy towels.
For design purposes, juxtaposed against the decorative shower curtain (which changes regularly with season or holiday) must hang the dark towels. The cream ones belong in the shower to wrap yourself in the plush, oh so cleanness of them.
Also, the dark towels will not show the dirt and makeup the oblivious ones have not quite disposed of via soap, water and nearby sink.
I am in a silent war with my son as he too feels the compulsion to have things just so.
Unfortunately, his vision calls for the other towel to hang here.
I KNOW it is him that switches the towels. Just as I know who it is that has not yet EVER deposited a dirty washcloth in the conveniently near hamper.
You may well think that I am quietly batshit. You could be right.
Just like the lady in Twin Peaks with her window blinds.