It’s Towel Day! And I forgot my towel at home. This is what’s wrong with me. I go around flaunting my gleefully-held beliefs like one should always have a towel and then go around, tossing them out the window in fits of forgetfulness.
A further example: I pledged to send out a couple agent query letters today (CLOYD will be SOLD, damn it!), and here I am, blogging about towels.
Some explanation. Towel Day is a world-wide festival celebrating the towel, as inspired by Douglas Adams’s flawless – and it was flawless, damn it – Hitchhiker’s Guide to The Galaxy trilogy(ish). The towel is an infinitely useful object, deployed as everything from a method by which one can obtain sustenance, a weapon, and a disguise. It is also one of the very few things that the bumbling Arthur Dent has to remind him of Earth in his travels throughout the galaxy, and is thus better than a photograph, because you can bend a towel and no one will shout at you for destroying memories.
Now, I could talk about my own whacky uses for towels as inspired by Adams, but I won’t. Instead, in further penance for my stupidity, I shall discuss a time when I left a towel at home on a, and was thus put in an awkward position.
That’s it. There is no other point. The story will be me going to a place, thinking “whoops,” and that is it. It’s a meandering bout of mental vomit wherein no truths about humanity or myself are gleaned. I went on a trip, forgot to bring a towel, and life goes on. That’s the point of the story. But, still, I think I should get this out there. You know, appease the Towel Spirit by saying that towels are very useful, and this is what happens when you don’t bring a towel:
You write a shitty blog post in the hopes that doing so will get out a couple more pageviews.
Feel free to skip this if you don’t care about Towel Day, but only on the caveat that you’re going to go read Hitchhiker’s Guide to The Galaxy.