The Hook

In my bathroom, my towel hangs on a plastic hook over the closet door, the kind you buy for 2.99 at Target or where ever. The Girl was using our shower (don't get me started on why) and decided to use my towel to dry off with. Being of diminuitive size, she had some difficulty getting the towel off the hook. She decided to fling the towel off the hook, which sent the hook flying through the air. It ultimately landed in the toilet, where she had done #2 and not flushed. She reached in with a plastic bag to retrieve the hook and set it on the bathroom counter, saying nothing. Here is where I enter the picture. I find the hook on the counter and replace on the closet door and put my towel on it. Several days pass before The Girl reveals this little jewel of information to the rest of the family at the dinner table. Apparently I have been drying my face on this feces-infested hook for days - lovely. The Wife made The Girl clean it with bleach, but that cannot remove the mental image of the hook floating in the comode next to yesterday's meatloaf.