In praise of paper towels

I just love paper towels. Always have, always will.

I know my love affair with paper towels started when I was fairly young; probably around seven. Back in the 1950’s paper towels came in one color: white. They were rough and scratchy. I don’t know why my mother ever bought them because we weren’t allowed to use them.

Paper towels were kind of like the good china; they were to be saved for special occasions. What that mystery occasion was I don’t know, but the paper towels were mounted by the kitchen sink on the ugly steel paper towel holder. Maybe it was a special good luck kitchen talisman.

Come to think of it, I believe we only had one roll of paper towels that moved with us from house to house like the good couch. I think that same roll was with my family by the time I got married. I wonder whatever happened to it.

Now I buy colorful paper towels by the dozens from Sam’s Club and I use them freely. I used a ton of them on Thanksgiving after all the warnings about not contaminating anything. I should use that many paper towels anytime I cook (which is infrequently) but I don’t think about food contamination except on big holidays.

Gary likes to use the hand towels. I used to think that hand towels were used after you washed your hands but he uses them to mop up around the sink which I think is gross, however it gives me an excuse to rip off the choose-a-size paper towel and wipe my hands.

So here is to the inventor of the paper towel, and no I don’t feel I am wasting the environment because I recycle all my paper. If they can chuck newspapers full of stupid paper-wasting circulars I can use my paper towels.

I love my paper towels.