Living on Stage
The towels in our bathroom belong to someone else. The stager we hired put them there. After we de-cluttered our house, the stager swooped in and made it look fancy, the way a house has to look these days to sell. We put our mis-matched dressers and garage-sale book shelves in storage. We got rid of our half-broken Ikea stuff. We packed away our photographs and books. The stager, Heidi, came with loads of comfy chairs and large vases of artificial flowers, lots of lamps and throw pillows. There are now 26 throw pillows in our house; two weeks ago there were three. She put nice towels in our bathrooms, gave us an acceptable credenza for our TV, and put red martini glasses in our living room. Because, if you buy our house, you'll just loll around drinking cosmos in that living room every night. So, the towels in our bathroom belong to the stager, and I can't use them. MY towel is stuffed under the sink, which means whenever I need it I have to scoop it out of the vanity. The to