Towels
I made a grave mistake a couple weeks back. In my own unique style of doing things, I neglected to grab my wife’s towel from the towel hanger and place it near the shower enclosure along with my own prior to a nightly shower.
I was verbally abused. Very verbally. Lots of verbs involved. Verb massacre.
Bits of verbs lay everywhere from the massive verb explosion.
Anyways, since then, when I am prepping to take a shower after my wife, I take special notice if my towel has not been removed from the hanger and placed near the shower along with her own. If it is still up on the hanger, I take my sweet sweet partial revenge.
Sunday night, no towel.
“Where is my towel?” I asked.
“Hanging up.” She replied.
“Did you not think about me? I planned on taking a shower as well.”
“How long are you going to keep getting back at me over that?” She asked.
“Well I’ll be eighty, and I will walk into the bathroom while your showering, and say: ‘Honey, where’s my towel? I was expectin’ to take a shower too!’ And you will reply: ‘What the hell are you doing in my bathroom? We have been divorced for 30 years! Get out you crazy freak! How did you even get in? You don’t have a key!’ ” I replied.
Ha. Comedian I am.
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