"I've got a bone to pick with you"
The voice of my best friend wanders out of the phone and pierces my spine.
Oh Shit. Did I do something? Its true that I can be incredibly oblivious to things that normal humans with normal social aptitude pick up on, so in reality I most likely DIDN'T do something, or forgot or just missed the cue completely.
Now the Other Mrs B and I have been friends since 1994, when we appraised each other through a screen door on the lake and decided that the person we saw was OUR kind of people.
We have seen each other get married...she was the first person at whom I waved my positive pregnancy stick (all the while not-so-secretly skeeving her out by the idea of my urine very near her face) and had me greet her after the premature birth of her now 4 year old son after her consultation with the lactation consultant and the industrial breast pump. To characterize her face as "stricken" at that moment would be understatement - and not because of her sons early arrival. She had just been hooked up to a milking machine by a stranger and her expression conveyed JUST that emotion.
She is lovely Chanel Makeup and a person who DOES her hair, and knows how to whip up meals and boil lobsters. I am her best friend, who walks out in the green rocket dog sneakers, black skirt and a Zombie T-shirt, no makeup, thank you very much. She always looks great - and once decried "How do you people beautify yourselves?" when she discovered that I own ONE mirror, which is in the bathroom...which has no outlets for hair dryers which I never noticed because I don't dry my hair with a dryer.
These things aside, we fit side by side in a completely comfortable way. We have spent weekends and vacations together, lounging in the living room or hotel room together, not talking - doing our things, occasionally cracking up in laughter as we push the limits of being in the same room and yet still using chat boxes to talk about our husbands.... This habit is an offshoot of when we lived next to each other and would stand on our porches, looking at each other, talking on the phone.
The idea that I have upset her is so foreign to me that the words "bone to pick with you" actually make me sweat a bit.
"Okay, What is it?"
"When you visit my house and I leave beautiful towels out for you, in a lovely display in the bathroom, Will you PLEASE not dig out the funky old towels from under the sink to use after your shower?
My laughter rushes up to wash relief over me.
"I thought those were the Good towels", I said. "I thought those were, you know, the Show towels."
"Dawn - I put those towels out FOR YOU to use. Do not get the old towels from under the sink..."
I pause "In my defense, I am a Mom. I don't assume that the nice towels are for me at this juncture in my life."
She laughs. "Listen next time you are here, I am going to make a large towel arrangement on your bed to indicate that these are for YOU to USE..."
"You know what you need to do? Take a class to make towel animals. Then I will know they are really for Me."