And I want payment in towels.
I have three teenagers. Because of the four year spread in my kids’ ages, this means that the Teenage Era is from 2005 through 2016.
There are Asian dynasties that came and went faster than that.
And while I am blessed to have even tempered, relatively low-angst teenagers, there are some inescapable inevitabilities that accompany a household full of fluxing hormones.
And my towels are paying the price.
I am sending any number of shareholders’ children to prep school, swanky summer camp and ivy league colleges with the sheer amount of money Himself and I spend on face washes and topical anti-blemish creams. Not to mention forkin’ over a sizable chunk o’ cash that could otherwise be spent on MY children’s experiencing higher education beyond the local junior college level on Retin A and prescription strength antibiotic ointments.
But the one that is going to drive me round the ben and into the arms of a bartender with a bowl of peanuts and double scotch is Clearasil.
Do you know what the active ingredient in Clearasil is? Benzoyl Peroxide.
Now, I’m not a chemist, but I’m pretty sure I remember that peroxide is also the active ingredient in “Blond Hair on the Cheap.”
And what it does for those who come to blond by way of a sink basin and a brown bottle, it also does for anything else that it comes in contact with.
Namely my towels.
Let’s do some math.
The average teenagers uses four clean towels per day, seven if there’s a date involved.
I have three teenagers.
That means the average daily towel exposure to Clearasil in my house each day is roughly one luxury SUV’s worth.
This then means that every single towel we own – hand towels, bath towels – no matter what the original color, is now a mottled tortoiseshell.
Green towels are now shades of dappled sage and faded wheat.
Blue towels are now blotchy watercolors of aqua and navy.
Red towels now look like something used to try to clean up the evidence in a crime scene.
This is NOT getting me any Martha Points.
We briefly experimented with whites and creams to hide the bleaching effects but…but…
Well, if you have kids, have ever been a kid, have ever let a kid into your house, you know you just don’t use light-colored towels with that population if you ever want to sleep at night. There are some things you just must NOT see the physical evidence of.
So I’ve done a little adding in my head and I believe that Proctor and Gamble owes me 416 towels. And I’m not fussy – I don’t need the luxury Egyptian cotton towels from Nordies.
Target is fine. Seriously.
But even Target towels add up.