Outside the wind was howling and I could hear the rain crashing against the bedroom windows. I didn’t want to get up, I was warm and comfortable and I was lying next to Maggie and I could have happily stayed like that forever, but I knew that I had to move. I crept down the hall to the bathroom, stripped and took a shower and then redressed. I always kept some throwaway razors and some spare under clothes and socks in my locker at the garden centre and I could shave and change later. Maggie appeared to be still sleeping when I looked in and so I went down to the kitchen and put the coffee pot on and did the washing up from the previous night whilst I waited for it to brew. My brain was a total muddle. I had spent the night with Maggie, spooned on the same bed, only separated by the thickness of a quilt, one half of my brain was calling me a total pillock for not making a play for her, or even using ‘The Touch’ to get into her pants. The other half was rationally telling me that IF. If you're going to use a towel, just use the same one, but please wash it regularly. Will you do that? Put in the laundry for me?" Um," I began, but couldn't continue."What?" What if, like, I need it in between? Like when it's in the laundry?"Mom laughed at that. "Oh..." she said. Pursing her lips. "I guess maybe you need two. In rotation." She laughed again, but I just felt more embarrassed."Look, it's nothing to be embarrassed about, Tony. It's natural."I nodded, glumly.In the end, she picked up the offending rag again, between two fingers like it was a dead rat, and tossed it into the garbage. And shortly after, she brought out two well-worn but serviceably hand-towels and said, "OK. Here are two towels for you. When you use one, put it in the laundry please. Laundry gets done around here pretty frequently, that should be fine. But if you need it like ... more often, just get another towel."I was still gloomy about it. I felt embarrassment, still. The idea of putting a wet, sticky.
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