The Missing Towel

Drove up to my usual parking space in front of the gym. Turned off the car, stashed my wallet and iPhone in the overhead compartment, automatically reached over to grab my gym towel off the passenger seat and opened my door to get out. Looked back at the passenger seat where I keep my gym towel, wondering why it was missing. Got halfway out of the car, leaned in to look around for the missing towel...with my left hand full of towel on the steering wheel as I glared down and around the passenger seat.

Nowhere! Shit! Need my towel!

Got back in and sat down, knowing that I ALWAYS leave my towel on that seat and the only way it could be missing is if CARLA took it. She probably used it to clean something nasty.

Doing a slow burn over Carla messing with my stuff again, I retrieved my phone to call her and unload. Be nice I kept telling myself, it could be a mistake, something else. Take the high road.

She didn’t answer.

Transferred the towel from my left hand to right so that I could put my window down while I figured out the missing towel dilemma that Carla had so thoughtlessly put me in.

Got out, feeling incomplete and unprepared, I transferred the towel back to my left hand as I pressed the remote to lock the car.

Walked into the gym, feeling naked, towel hanging from my left hand, pissed off that Carla had done this to me.

Eager to finish up quickly and confront her, I hoped she would be home from her graveyard shift when I got back. I was getting myself more worked up thinking of the many times this kind of thing has happened in the past, especially with my tools. She knows how much I hate for her to use and misplace my tools. They always need to be in their specific place! (it’s never her fault when one is missing, always mine).

She does this stuff to me all the time. I can only be pushed so far and I’m going to let her know it.

I'm tired of being Mr Nice Guy. This shit ends today!