Poverty

There is rampant poverty on the Brannan Farm. We are a Third World Farm. Poverty of the worst kind......towel poverty. You know that moment when you actually LOOK at your towels and think....o good gosh.....I hope no one drops by for a bath. I would have to say.......take a long soak while I run to Wally. I don't know why this happens. Why my towel-o-meter doesn't keep up with the condition of our linen closet. It should have gone off decades ago. Most of these towels I'm sure were washcloths during the Watergate scandal, hand towels shortly after Nixon resigned, then grew to adult towelhood during the Ford presidency. No, this is NOT a political statement. It is just a fact and a very sad one at that. I swear some of them you can see through which is NOT a good thing if you have wrapped yourself securely with these poor things then have innocently stepped in front of a mirror. H-O-R-R-O-R!! Tell me.....do YOU want to see through your towel when you are in front of your mirror? Okay....so you're narcissitic. I, on the other hand, rather live my life perfectly oblivious to the state of what lies beneath my towel wrapped body. I want new towels. I want soft, plush, warm, soothing towels. I want vibrant colored towels. I mostly want towels that hide the fact I've had TWO Coke Classics today along with popcorn, Cheetos and other assorted snacks. So for the sake of my self esteem, my embarrassment and also my laziness, please DO NOT drop by my house today for a bath and force me to run and buy new towels. I promise, I hold my right hand over my heart, I WILL end this state of towel poverty soon. Just not today when football is good, snacks are plentiful and I'm planning on drying off in the dark for the next few days. Peace Out!