Throw in the towel

I've come to a draw with the one thinger.

First, an admission. He is a pretty great hubby. He is not really a slob, he always helps with the kid and he's very reliable. But as close to perfect as he is, I really need just a little more. And by more, I mean pick up your fucking wet towel, shoes, dirty cups, computer bag, coat and toe-nail clippings. I really don't think that's too much to ask!

Back to the draw. Sunday, as the one thinger was getting ready for church, I casually strolled by and said, "One of these days you'll be all grown up and you can hang up your towel all by yourself." (I actually smirked to myself on this one. It was just soo bitchy, I couldn't take it!)

"You just don't know how good you've got it," he replied. "Besides, I NEVER leave my towel lying around."

Never? Is he fucking kidding me? That's like saying I never have paranoid delusions about people talking to me in public bathrooms. Or I never obsess over that meat smell in the trash. Or I never freak out when we get down to 10 rolls of toilet paper.

"Shyeah," I replied. "Never happens maybe once a week. The rest of the time I graciously pick up your damp, rotting towel off the sink."

"And, I'm so sure of it, I will take a picture of it everytime you leave a towel on the sink and post it on the Internet!" (That showed him.)

He snorted, and went to put on his coat.

Fucker picked up his towel today.

But I wait, the one thinger has not failed me yet. I will post a towel picture on this blog if I have to plant the evidence .... I mean, wait for months to get it!