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You wash your face in my sink?
Jan. 5th, 2013 10:35 pmThe hand-towel in the kitchen used to live on a hook, which was behind you and across the room as you stood at the sink. When we decorated the kitchen, we took down the hook (or had it fallen off the wall by then? I forget) and the towel has been living on the chair. Behind you and across the room as you stand at the sink.
Last weekend we put up a towel rail. It's directly in front of you as you stand at the sink. Handy, you'd think. Convenient. Easily in reach if you've got wet hands.
Except actually, it isn't convenient at all. Every time I get my hands wet I turn round, walk across the room, realise with vague surprise that the towel isn't there, swear, and walk back to the sink to dry my hands.
Every. Last. Sodding. Time.
Not only am I not a hoopy frood, I don't even know where my towel is.
Unelatedly, where did this Fiction Family album on my shelves come from? I don't remember buying it. I don't know who they are. It's quite pleasant, but it's a total mystery.
Last weekend we put up a towel rail. It's directly in front of you as you stand at the sink. Handy, you'd think. Convenient. Easily in reach if you've got wet hands.
Except actually, it isn't convenient at all. Every time I get my hands wet I turn round, walk across the room, realise with vague surprise that the towel isn't there, swear, and walk back to the sink to dry my hands.
Every. Last. Sodding. Time.
Not only am I not a hoopy frood, I don't even know where my towel is.
Unelatedly, where did this Fiction Family album on my shelves come from? I don't remember buying it. I don't know who they are. It's quite pleasant, but it's a total mystery.
