Towels

My towels are fucking evil.

Wait, what? How can towels be evil? That's just ridiculous.

But they are evil. Even moreso on days like today when they've come fresh from the dryer and are all nice and toasty and warm. And that friends is why they're evil. Think for a sec: when do we use towels? When we've come out of the shower.

Now, you might think I don't need toasty towels at this time of year, what with highs in the eighties, but you're wrong there. I wake up at a bit before quarter six on school days. Ten minutes under scalding water, five minutes under freezing water (a habit I picked up from James Bond and I've no intention of going back to my old system). So by the time I've finished showering, there is no light in the sky and I am naked and covered in very cold water.

And so I grab towels. I grab like six of them and turn them into a Tibetan mountaineer's coat. But see here's the problem. It's very very cold in the morning and although I will be not-as-cold once I've dressed, it's really fucking cold while I'm in the process of dressing. So I don't want to leave my towels. Especially when they're fresh from the dryer.

Take today for example.

I clamber into the shower with a pounding skull (thanks to having only gotten about four hours of sleep due to my own stupidity) and am done by about six, maybe a few minutes over. I am sitting here now at 6:43 in the morning still naked, still buried under my pile of toasty towels. Okay, so they're not exactly toasty any more. And what have I done? Play around on twitter. And now stall by writing this.

Fuck you towels. I fucking hate you.

It's because of the blasted towels I'm late whenever it's cold. I think from now on I'm going to keep all of the towels elsewhere and just put one in the bathroom before I get in the shower, so I can't be all wrapped and toasty. That or I'll just sprint in the buff to my room and that'll definitely force me to dress in a hurry.

We'll see what happens.

Meanwhile, fuck you, you damn towels!