Don't Share A Bath Towel With Your Parents

So Thursday night I went down to the master bathroom to take a shower.  It had been several days since I washed myself (adhering to strict Chinese/Lunar New Year taboos), and I knew I had to use the one downstairs because I used the one upstairs the last time I showered.

But you add those two things up and you can see how I forget things.  Not, like turning on the faucet, but remembering what I have to bring downstairs from the upstairs (aka my) bathroom.  One of those was bringing in my own towel.  I only realized this, however, once I turned on the water in the shower.  Whoops, too late.

While I didn't bring down my own towel, there were two towels there.  They're my parents', and they left them there when they left for Vegas.  Great, I'll just use them ... except that I don't know whether they washed them before they began wintering out in Nevada.  Now, I use the master bathroom sink to brush my teeth, so when I dry my hands I dried them on those towels.  So sure, I maybe shouldn't complain about using dirty towels.  But there is a difference between using my folks' towels to dry my hands and using them to dry my body -- right?

Regardless, I had no choice.  So I picked one of the two towels and I dried myself with it.  I used it as if it were my own, but all the while I was imagining my parents coming out of the shower doing the same thing.  Ick.  Glad I bought a robe (and I should blog post about the robe I bought very soon); once I got all of the big wetness off my body, I dropped that towel and got into my robe.

So the towel is going to be washed by me soon.  The imagery of my parents using what I had just used ... well, I can't wash that out of my brain no matter how hard I try.