Oh, the horror! The horror!

Let me tell  you a story about the scariest thing in my apartment. Brace yourselves – it’s this:

I can hear you now ‘Well, Anne, that’s just a towel rack, an innocent towel rack. How could it possibly be scary?’ HERE’S HOW:


I don’t know what purpose it could possibly have there other than to be cowardly and hit me on the back of the head when I lean over to get my shampoo or to bang into my elbows when I’m using said shampoo, but, and I don’t care that it (along with a myriad of other items) is installed into the very tile of the wall, it has to go!

There are more than a few unfathomable design choices in this apartment, presumably made by the previous tenant (I know, I know, someone will inevitably say the same thing about me somewhere down the line) – it’s not so much that she made those choice that bothers me so much as the fact that I cannot, for the life of me, discern the logic behind any of them! And most of them reside in that very small bathroom.

Don’t worry, there will be a dissertation on the chaos that is the floor tile soon to come.