After you left, I was putting away clean towels. You can imagine my shocked dismay when I noticed an unseemly "blob" in front of ......the toilet. I knew what it was. And I knew that none of you missed the toilet bowl......or anything like that. I recognized immediately WHAT it was. I am so-o-o-o sorry!
Perhaps this letter will make it clear why I was not very interested in beautifully monogrammed anything as were displayed in that gorgeous magazine you showed me.
You see, I live in a pig house with....another pig. Like a fräulein wedded to a potato farmer, I live in mud, dirt, grass clippings, and other sundry drudge-generating messes. I can never aspire to grand living or a pampered lifestyle. My devoted hardworking husband keeps me humble.
Preparing for your arrival, I went over the whole floor of the entire house on my fanny scrubbing more carefully than usual. Upon finishing and beholding the sparkling clean surfaces of my little palace floors, I left the room. My husband followed me in there. (No....he did not poo-poo on the floor.)
What he did do was drag in a heavy ladder with dirty rubber feet, to repaste some ornamental border at the top of a ten-foot wall. Then he left. ........and I, thinking that it was clean, never went back in.....until you folks left to go home.
Anyhoo, it was incumbent on me to insure that he did not leave any messes. As usual I was remiss.
I did not realize that you were planning on leaving me that magazine with the monograms. I live in my own reality and cannot fathom any other. I am sorry for my dismissiveness. I shouldn't have been so abrupt.
Truthfully though, you cannot make a silk purse out of a sow's ear .....or a garage sale madam's either, for that matter.
I would say without reservation, the nearest I ever came to monogrammed towels in my bathroom was the black blob in front of the toilet.
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