Fuzzy Wuzzy was a…towel?


And now for a bit of fluff. Sure, there are lots of interesting bits of news out there, but it’s my blog and I want to ramble. And, yes, I know Fuzzy was a bear. For reasons you will shortly read, today Fuzzy Wuzzy was a towel.

Much of my home life (going all the way back to my rental days) was/is based on hand me downs. Mostly from my Mom and Grandma. You can check out the details in our curiously imaged link off to the right.

Thankfully, I only got household goods


For many moons, I was content. Being on a limited budget and being mostly a utilitarian, I was happy with what I had. Since, by all measures, what I had been handed down worked just fine.

Several years ago, I finally made the decision to fully upgrade my towels. This wasn’t an easy decision for me. A case could be made that those things I owned (much of which, as noted, were bought in a prior generation) were better than anything new I could buy.

You’re wasting space on my towel!

Plus, I had my one annoying problem: dobby. Yes, I get the reference, but this name existed before J.K. named her elf. What are dobbies? The short version is in the link to the right. The shorter version is this: the “crimp” near the ends of any towel.

It’s a design element that I dislike because (a) it’s non-utilitarian – has no absorbency whatsoever and (b) it’s uncomfortable – harsh against the skin.

After much hunting, I found a set of towels at Macy’s that both matched my bathroom color scheme and avoided the dreaded dobby. I was in.

Three years later, a couple of the towels are threading. I direct all readers to my original point about durability of goods from prior generations.

With a sigh, I added towels to my holiday buying list and found a set at Bed, Bath and Beyond.

These did have dobbies, but they were thicker and softer. The color, though, was not as good a match, being more orangish (melon, by name). Regardless, I picked up a whole set.

A habit my Mom ingrained in me when I was young was to always wash clothes before using them. I place everything, from socks to towels, in the wash first before it touches my not particularly precious body.

The first load of towels finished drying. Looking inside, there was a monstrous abomination growing out of my dryer lint filter. Orangish it was (melonish?) and fluffy. If it had been jello-like, I would have looked for Steve McQueen.

I must admit here, that I am a static cling zombie. I buy those little sheets that are supposed to reduce static cling in the dryer. There’s no actual evidence they do anything at all. They seem to do nothing more than cling to a piece of clothing; to be found later during folding.

But I still buy them.

Perhaps the massive lint monster was a result of my static cling sheet doing its work. If so, I apologize to the sheets. Not aloud, though, because that would be weird.

I was pleased with the first use of the towels. They were soft and absorbent. Then I noticed something. Little orange fuzz balls (melon balls?) were floating in the air as I toweled down.

Huh? I already washed the towels thoroughly. Where were these fuzz balls coming from?

By the end of the week, I had to pull out the mini-vac on the bathroom floor. I made a mopey face and decided to wash all the towels once again.

Darned if I wasn’t greeted by another lint monster, just as big as the first time. Are you kidding me?

Anyhoo, the next time through with the towels, there were less fuzz balls. At this rate, I predict by wash four or five I should be pretty much out of fuzz balls.

Which is great, because these things act like the glitter on greeting cards, they attach to you in the weirdest places and stay there until you catch sight of them in just the right light.

Not enough for anyone to notice or change my appearance, thankfully. I’d prefer if the only Fuzzy Wuzzy in my home remained the towels.

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