Whenever I see a towel hanging like this, I have the biggest urge to go straighten it up. It could be that it is solely my perfectionistic nature kicking in, but I think it has at least somewhat to do with a little device in me called "My Mother's Voice". This device sometimes goes into replay mode, delivering phrases such as "Make your bed", "Pick up that item (book, toy, garment) off the floor", "Straighten up that towel". Rather than resist it, I listen as often as I can to a piece of Mom I carry with me, and give thanks for this inheritance.
Very cool. She lives on, in a way, through her children, and then her grandchildren. She may have been hearing her mother's voice too as she instructed you all.
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