The best part about marriage is clean towels.
Love, companionship, trust — all good things, but not in the same league as fresh linen. Towels are the modern-day dowry. I don’t need 100 goats. I need solid absorption.
Even when the closet is empty there are always seven towels on active reserve in the dryer.
When I was single I always had impeccable hygiene but never had clean towels. I’d step out of the shower pristine, then recoat myself with the same shit and sludge I had just washed off.
That is if the towel hadn’t changed physical states and become petrified, which always happened. Trying to dry yourself with a bronze statue is not recommended.
Air drying was always an option. But there are only so many ass-watermarks you can leave on the couch before even Bob won’t take it back.
Not anymore.
As Paul wrote to the Corinthians: love is patient, love is kind, love dries quickly.