You will perhaps recall the Pot Holder Incident of 2010 in which I finally realized my need, after fourteen years, for a new set of pot holders. I recently observed that this same phenomenon was taking place among other household linens as well. This time, it was the bath towels. I had looked at the same old things for days and months and years, slowly watching them deteriorate, not realizing that perhaps I could do a little something about it. But when shreds of fourteen-year-old terrycloth (wound with various other indiscernible threads) began to get caught between my toes, I finally snapped out of it and came to grips with the sad nature of our towels.
I remembered reading somewhere how pleasant it is to have white towels in the bathroom -- clean, fresh, bright. And so I determined to find (yes, you guessed it) the perfect white bath towel. Times six. Now this time, (my pot holder experience having served me well) I was a bit quicker to realize that maybe I didn't need to seek perfection after all. Maybe I just needed to find something that didn't threaten to strangle, as our current set was falling severely short of that desirable mark.
My sister and I were at Ross a couple of weeks ago. I love Ross. I could shop there every day. Anyway, there we were. I mentioned that I might mosey on over to the bath section to check out the towels while she tinkered among various wrought iron creatures. Guess what I found? Two crisp, bright white towels. On clearance. I nearly swooned. Stroking their cottony perfection, I eyed the red tag again. And again. $3.49. Oh yes. These were begging to come home with me.
Then I had another revelation. I didn't need to find six towels that matched perfectly. This pair would go in the master bath anyway. I could buy the others separately.
Home they came. I washed them immediately and hung the plump terrycloth on the rack. I was tempted to take a shower right smack in the middle of the day as I reveled in the delicious discovery that a towel could feel like anything other than sandpaper.
My success led me to scan another Ross location the following week. Drew and Bethie had long since outgrown their baby towels from Noni. (Now, don't get me wrong. We love our handmade Noni towels. Everyone does. Dozens and dozens of babies have been wrapped in her love. But I knew it was finally time to let my growing dears dry themselves with a full-sized towel devoid of fading choo-choo trains and Sunbonnet Sues. Sniff.)
Well there they were, way up on the top shelf: two more fluffy white towels. On clearance. This time, I took it a step further. I noticed a couple of smudges on the towels. Maybe I could get a discount on the discount . . . . Sure enough, the checker agreed to knock off another 15%. I got the beauties for a mere $2.50 a piece. It was a good day.
They, too, were washed (with the smudges coming out nicely) and immediately hung on the kids' bath rack. Bethie's eyes glowed when I whispered that she had a brand new towel. Just for her. Such a simple pleasure -- and so easy to fulfill. Why on earth did it take me so long?
Now, Aidan and Avery are still quite comfortable in their plump, hooded Noni towels. The soft cotton still fully covers their little bubble-bathed bodies, so I think I can hold off on adding more fluffy whiteness to our collection for the time being. But I promise to remain vigilant. Next time around I'll see to it that they're cozily wrapped in brand new terrycloth before someone's wee toes become dangerously entwined in ancient threads.