We change the towels in our bathroom every Sunday. After his shower, the Jazzman scoops them all up off the towel bars and dumps them down the laundry chute. Later on, I pull clean towels out of the laundry cupboard and place them, still carefully folded, onto the towel bars, his and hers.
This morning, as he emerged from his shower, the Jazzman called from the bathroom, "Did you fold these towels and put them back on the bars?" "No," I called back, "those are clean." "They look just like the old ones," he said, with an air of wonder. "Yep, we have multiples," I told him.
Isn't it fun with a man notices something simple like that?