The Battle of the Towels

On Thursdays, we commemorate and reignite the Battle of the Towels. The Battle of the Towels goes to the root of our marriage naturally. It goes like this.

One Thursday, I took my morning shower, got out, and found an empty towel hook. In fact, I found nothing but empty towel hooks. All the towels were gone. Backup bath towels are in the hall closet, which of course can be seen easily from our neighbors’ house across the street. So getting a new towel from there was out. But we have beach towels in our closet, so no big deal. I went to the closet and got a beach towel, dried off, and hung it up.

Later in the day, Lauren and I crossed paths in the bathroom and Lauren suddenly exclaimed, “Argh! Why did you get a beach towel out?”

“I had no towel after my shower. What should I have done?”

“Now it’s dirty and has to be washed.”

“It’s not dirty.”

“You used it, so it’s dirty.”

“I used it to dry my freshly showered and clean body, so by definition, it’s not dirty.”

“I’m putting it in the laundry.”

“You can just put it back in the closet.”

“But then it will be dirty for someone else.”

“Well, it has my name on it, so it would be ‘dirty’ for me, and I say it’s not dirty.”

“It’s going in the wash.”

Readers, it went in the wash.

This happened on three or four consecutive Thursdays with the resulting debate each time and with the beach towel, having been used once, going in the wash.

One Thursday, I got in the shower, got out, and found only my towel still hanging in the bathroom. I dried off and hung it up. Going into the bedroom, I passed a full laundry basket sitting next to the bed, which I ignored. Take it easy. I have done plenty of laundry, cooking, cleaning, and other household chores. I have my reasons, as you will see.

Once I was downstairs, Lauren said, “Did you start the towels?”

“What do you mean?” I said.

“You saw the laundry basket, right?”

“I don’t know. Maybe.”

“The one sitting right in the middle of our room that you would for sure have to step around so you wouldn’t forget?”

“Wouldn’t forget what?”

She rolled her eyes. “I put all the towels except yours in the laundry basket. You were supposed to dry off, put your towel in the basket, bring the basket down, and start the towels.”

“How on God’s green earth was I supposed to know that?”

“Your towel was literally the only one left hanging in any bathroom. Every towel in the house was sitting in that laundry basket. All it needed was your towel. You’re always telling me not to talk to you like you’re an idiot. I assumed you would get it.”

Now I rolled my eyes. “How many times have I tried to be a good sport, started the laundry, and had you say, ‘Oh, did you start the laundry? I wanted to put my workout clothes in there.’ How could I possibly know you didn’t still have clothes to put in there?”

“There were no workout clothes in the basket! There were no clothes of any sort in the basket! They were all towels!”

“I’m not Encyclopedia Brown here. I don’t do laundry basket composition analyses, and I try not to get between you and your compulsions.”

“Can you go back upstairs and get the towels?”

“Does it have to be me?”

“I literally didn’t do it so I could make sure you had a towel.”

“That’s not true.”

“How so?”

“I can get a beach towel out. Having a towel was not the issue. You wanted to make sure I had my old towel out so I wouldn’t ‘dirty’ a beach towel. This isn’t about helping me out. It’s about getting what you want.”

“Oh my gosh! Could you just go get the towels?”

“And that’s another thing. Well played on your part because here’s a job you used to do that now you transferred to me but tried to make it like you were doing me a favor when actually I’m fine with a beach towel and you’re the one who wants it how you want it.”

“Fine, I will go get the towels today. But next week, could you put your towel in the basket and bring the towels down and start them? It’s literally right on your way.”

“I’m gonna want something for that.”

“You get plenty.”

Here was my Thursday morning 10 am text this week.