There are some days I think my husband is a woman trapped in a mans body. Today... is one of those days.
The morning started off with an hour long conversation about one towel. Evidently this towel means more to him than anything else in the whole wide world and I am not allowed to use it. Ever. I now know this thanks to the following conversation.
"Jo, did you use my towel?"
"Yeah, sorry. It was the only one hanging up in the bathroom and I needed one."
"So you touched my towel. The gold towel?"
"Yes, J.R. I touched the gold towel."
"But it's my towel. Why did you use it?"
"I told you... it was the only one hanging up in the bathroom and I needed one."
"Jo, don't use my towel. I used this towel in Iraq."
"So? You used a lot of things in Iraq. Am I not allowed to touch your GPS? How about your computer?"
"This is different. It's my towel. MY. TOWEL."
Now repeat this conversation about twenty times. I just don't understand what the big deal is over a towel. It's not like I'm going to get cooties all over it. It's a TOWEL. It's gold. It's ugly. But it's the biggest and softest towel we have here. I guess I will just have to drag him into one of those "stupid women stores," and buy my own towel. Just for fun maybe I'll spend a good hour picking out just the right color. I do believe that this would be fair payback for the hours I've spent waiting for him at bookstores.
So... after the towel conversation he slowly started the process of getting ready. It's been two hours. I have things I want to do today and he is NOT going to get out of them. So he needs to get into gear and finish getting ready. If we were fishing he would have been up and out of bed in five seconds. *sigh* Men.