Alphabet Day 3: T

My T day (suggested by Tolga, mind you): tired, Texas (where I wish I was), toothbrush, tea, Twitter, tacos (Chipotle and chocolate ice cream. I've been trying to lay off the sweets, but if the alphabet demands it, then I have to do it), two dog walks, theater*, tuscan chicken pasta, turkeys (The New Girl and Raising Hope), to-do list (mostly not done), and tired.

*I bought a bunch of "theater" books, musicals and some plays, because a classmate and I are setting out to write a musical. Neither of us has done it before, but I like writing words and he likes writing music, so we figured we should give it a shot.

T song: "The Things I Do" - Teddy Thompson 

T word: towel

The Towel hangs on the back of the closet door, unimposing. Depending on the master's hygiene, he might get put to use once a day or just once a week. Still, day after day, he hangs there watching as all the other clothes get to leave the closet, hanging off the master's limbs. They get to see worlds that the Towel cannot even dream of. He's lucky if he gets left on the floor of the master's bedroom for a few extra hours.

However, all the other clothes think the Towel is the lucky one. The Shirt says the master sweats so much his pits are now a yellow tint. The Jeans have been ripped so much, that his own mother does not even recognize him anymore. The master is always clean when the Towel gets put to use. Still, the Towel swears nothing could be worse than dangling from the same spot for the rest of your life.

"At least the master doesn't wipe his butt with you," cried the Toilet Paper from behind the bathroom door.

THE END.

- Barbara