Do you ever get the feeling like the universe is messing with you? Like there’s a body out there with a voodoo doll and getting a real good chuckle at your expense? I don’t mean those times when things go real bad and your heart hurts. I mean the Murphy’s Law sorts of things. That kind of jerked-around-by-the-universe kind of stuff.
I’m hope that if there is indeed a voodoo doll wielding person out there, s/he has giggled her/himself right into wet undies. (Yes, I did just hope a voodoo doll wielder suffers from incontinence. No, I don’t see a huge issue with this. After all, the only voodoo that works is in relation to a pink box with doughnuts inside of it, right?)
I moved into an apartment back in July. For the most part, we are very happy. But, like all new abodes, there are some peccadillos that leave a bit to be desired. For example, the reason behind that stick-on hook in that photo over there.
When the towel bar was installed in the master bath, there seems to have been a wee bit of trouble in paradise. If you look at the towel bar, it looks totally fine. In fact, you can use the towel bar to hang towels on it no problem. But you just might be mightily surprised when you take your towel off it one day in preparation of drying off your post-shower body.
Or at least, I was.
It appears that the “arms” that hold the bar are just a wee bit too wide for the bar. So it is only a matter of time until the bar shifts one direction or the other and falls out of the supporting arms. A towel bar Russian roulette of sorts, if you will.
You might imagine, myself not being a “morning” sort of person, that this kind of excitement got a bit wearing on this old lady. Non-permanent stick-on hooks to the rescue! Right?
I dutifully cleaned off the back of the door and applied 2 of these hooks. Then I pressed all of my not-inconsiderable weight against them for 10 minutes while imagining several things I’d rather press myself against. 4 hours later I hung Mister Soandso and my towels up.
The next morning, my towel and its hook was on the floor.
So, I cleaned the back of the door more carefully and applied a new sticky pad on 1 of the hooks. Then I pressed all of my not-inconsiderable weight against it for 15 minutes while imagining all the many
things men I’d rather press myself against. 6 hours later I hung my towel up.
The next morning, my towel and hook were, you guessed it, on the floor.
So, I used three different cleaners on the damn door, reapplied the stupid hook, did all the correct freaking mathematical things related to counting and waiting and hung up my damn towel that night right before I went to bed.
Guess where my towel was in the morning.
Off I went to the store. This time I did all the above rigamarole to the outside of the door. Two hooks, very clean surface, extra application of weight and waiting.
The honeymoon lasted three days.
It was a blessed thing, those three days of me being able to take down a nice dry towel with which to dry my post-shower body. And then the ability to hang it back up rather than drape it across various surfaces in my bedroom and closet.
Blessed I tell you.
But, all good things come to an end. As well as, it seems, my personal challenge to not put any money in my swear-jar this year.
Because my @#$%^&* towel was on the floor again. Not Mister Soandso’s towel. Just my towel.
So there you go, universe and voodoo doll wielding sick jerk out there. If I figure out who you are, I’m going to have a new use for my towel hook.