A generous guest (or pair of guests?) color-coordinated some items for my previously uncoordinated and mish-mashed bathroom.

I (the wife) have been admiring the beauty of matching and correctly folded items hanging neatly on the towel racks and in a sad, sad attempt to keep things perfect have been removing offending older towels that are hung there simply to dry or for some other boring and un-beautiful reason are totally detracting from the palette of color while synchronously encouraging the usage of the older towels. When this encouragement is ineffective, I then try to wash and replace the new ones quickly so that the beautiful parallelism work of art is not lost indefinitely.

Sadly, HE (the husband) is enamored with the SOFTNESS of the towels, has no concern at all for the lack of symmetry created when part of this work of art is removed and keeps USING them. My sons and daughters are slowly following suit and enjoying USING the beautiful things instead of looking at them while drying off with the older towels that I may or may not have set out for their baths. The VANDALS!

This evening, Matt was (again) bemoaning the red fuzzies that came out on his pants this evening and explained that perhaps I should consider taking them all down and running them through the wash a few times to lose this shedding tendency.

I’m absolutely POSITIVE that I sounded PERFECTLY logical as I tried to explain that the main goal here wasn’t to make them more usable or less fuzzy. In fact, I didn’t want people to USE them all the time! I just wanted them to hang there and look beautiful. {This was probably very confusing because generally I am almost sadly pragmatic about things… probably because when I’m not, I become this ludicrous and obsessive about things.} I would be glad to wash them when they were getting dusty.

At any rate, he laughs and exclaims, “That is NOT what a towel is for!”

I am not entirely certain that we shall be able to resolve this difference without professional therapy, considering that at one point in the post-decorated stage I seriously toyed with the idea of teaching my children NOT to use the towels on the racks and that they are more for decoration. Settle down, I didn’t actually put that plan into motion because even I realized how very OCD it seemed.

Besides, it appears that unless I SEW the towels ON the racks in the appropriate folded dimensions that my desire for beauty will have to give way to actual practical usage. Darn it, anyway.

This type of insanity is not usually a problem for me… the person who rationalizes that the sun catcher paint on the ceiling (or floor) of the kitchen, cushions taken off the couch to use as landing pads, forts that are being built in the middle of the room I was trying to clean and holes in the yard are perfectly acceptable by saying that a house is made to be lived in and may as well look as if it has been enjoyed thoroughly. (Though I would prefer that the indoor evidences of this enjoyment disappear at least once per day so as to control the DEPTH of the evidence of enjoyment… we’re constantly working toward that goal.)

I do not understand (and I’m sure the male of the house is equally at a loss) as to why this rationalization no longer applies to the bathroom… I am the person who thinks things that aren’t used often are a waste of space, after all; the person who shuns knickknacks for their lack of any practical qualities and added dusting requirements. What is the matter with me?

There may be an argument to be had here as to why I should NOT attempt to redecorate any other areas of my home. At least not until my kids are old enough to more appreciate the beauty of the cushions rather than the bounciness thereof.

And not until I convince my husband to use those OLD towels that I hid under the sink and leave the beautiful ones hanging as a visual pleasure rather than a tactile one.

Just kidding, Matt! You’re welcome to use the nice soft symmetrical ones. Just be sure to fold it back into that shape and hang it in the same way to dry. I think I’m kidding. I think.

I’ll probably get over this.

 

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