pretty little things...

A lot of women have their own personal little hang-ups, that one thing (or two or three or untold number of things) that they get anal about.  We're talking above and beyond OCD here.  For some, it's the way the beds are made.   For others, it's not wearing shoes inside the house to preserve the carpeting, or having a certain set vacuum pattern on the floor. (I personally would be pleased to have beds made any which way or any type of vacuum pattern on the floor, as that would mean someone bothered to actually vacuum and make their beds... *ahem*)

 For others, like me, it's a prized possession, that in my mind, was meant to be revered, but not actually be used.  My paternal grandmother had such an objet d'amour, which was her beloved Wedgwood China set, AKA to the rest of the family as the "Holy Grail", because of the level of reverence she treated it with.  She took this love of of her possession so far that not only was this set never ever used (and to this day I still don't think it ever has been) but her fear of one of the pieces befalling some unfortunate accident was so great, that she kept the entire set stored in its original box, tucked away, never to even be looked at.  Family  and friends were only allowed to think of its grandeur, but never actually be witness to it. 

While I haven't quite reached the same level of neuroticism as this grandmother, my own Holy Grail would be a set of towels, which I've fondly started referring to as the "ridiculously-pricey-yet-cute-and-trendy" towels, that match a ridiculously-pricey-yet-cute-and-trendy shower curtain as part of a bathroom set that my husband and I recieved as wedding presents a little over a year and a half ago.  I was raised through training and example that pretty towels a pretty bathroom makes, so with that in mind, I proudly displayed these towels for all to admire, (though admittedly it's mostly just me doing the admiring), with a now well established household rule being that these are for looksies and not touchies.  I'm normally not an anal person (really, I'm not!) but there was a solid reason why this rule was established, and that reason is the problem with these towels, as with most ridiculously-pricey-yet-cute-and-trendy towels, is they just don't hold up well in the washing machine. This point has already been proven a couple of times by a forgetful Mister who has needed a reminding or two of this rule, and despite the only small number of times the towels have actually seen the washer, they are already showing some fading and wear due to this forgetfulness.

One of the more noted grievances that the Mister committed against the towels took place about 6 weeks or so ago.  I noticed one morning one of *the* towels was in the laundry hamper, and since the Mister also happened to be up and around at that early hour, I asked him about it, thinking he forgot to grab an everyday use towel for a shower, which has been the traditional reason for his past indiscretions with the towels.  His response? "Oh my nose started bleeding, so I needed something to sop up the blood"  After taking a second to remind myself that his life insurance policy would be useless to me were he to die by my own hand, I asked him "and you HAD to use one of my towels to help you with this problem?!" to which he said "Would you have rather I bled all over the floor??" which, to me, the obvious reply was "Um, YES?"  And so I thoughtfully explained to him the difference between towel and tile is one happens to hold on to stains while the other wipes up easily.

To some of you, this peculiar devotion of mine to these hanging bits of fabric might seem just on this side of insanity, or possibly even so far and beyond it that you're slowly edging away from your computer screen lest you catch whatever it is that makes a nice girl go twitchy.  Others are nodding in agreement, (hopefully?) already well versed in the knowledge that sometimes in the attempt to make your house a domestic kingdom, you can get a little nutty.