My life gets crazy sometimes. Even when I’m traveling, some kind of crazy happens on the reg. But some memories stick with you more than others. Like the time my husband and I got into a fight over towels in Tanque Verde, Arizona and I totally sucked it up.

My husband will probably not appreciate me telling this story, but sometimes a story is too good not to be told.

Location: Casa Milagrosa in Tanque Verde

A glorious week in the Sonoran Desert. That’s what I’d been waiting for. While I spent months planning our day hikes in Saguaro National Park, my husband was tasked with finding budget-friendly lodging. After deep diving into VRBO and Airbnb, he booked what is still my favorite place we’ve ever stayed- Casa Milagrosa in Tanque Verde, Arizona.

You can find lots of great rentals near Saguaro National Park on VRBO and Airbnb.

This casita was my dream spot. Pueblo-style adobe with huge saguaros and ocotillo right outside the door, a stunning view of the Santa Catalina mountains in the distance.

There were unique custom details like a hammered iron lizard shape door handle, carved stone coffee table, and thick, soft, white towels you typically don’t find in our budget. Brand spanking new, white, fluffy towels. I was looking forward to that first shower.

But Gary Got to the Towels First

The following morning, I was raring to go, but my husband beat me to the shower. No problem. I knew it would take him 15 minutes tops in the bathroom. Besides, I was still putting my hiking outfit together. (My hiking outfits are very important.)

A few minutes later, I heard the water turn off and some shuffling around in the bathroom. I grabbed my essentials and waited for Gary to vacate. And I waited. And I waited. And I waited.

Then I heard slapping. Slap! Slap!

Was he putting something on his face? (He doesn’t use aftershave.) Were there mosquitoes in the bathroom? (Does the desert have mosquitoes?) Hmm… I shrugged it off.

Then I heard it again. A staccato of slaps that could only mean something was very wrong.

Slap. Slap. Slap.

I crept to the door.

Gary was breathing hard like he might hyperventilate. He was even grunting a little. I’d never heard him like that before. He’s usually pretty chill unless he’s talking politics, North Carolina Tarheels basketball, or the demise of classic country music.

I knew something was up, yet I was scared to find out what. Was this about to get awkward?

I knocked.

“What are you doing in there?”

“I can’t get this stuff off of me!” His tone was familiar. I’ve freaked out a time or two. (Maybe more.)

Awkward or not, I was going in.

When that door swung open, I was speechless.

Gary looked like a human lint roller. There were tiny white threads stuck all over his body.

And when I say all over, I mean ALL over. And stuck like he’d been brushed with a layer of glue.

But they weren’t just all over his body, they were swirling in the air. The bathroom looked like a snow globe. And not one your grandma would put on display.

How did this happen?

We tried wiping the threads off with another new, white, fluffy towel. (Because that makes sense.) Conditions worsened.

Next, we tried a washcloth, then a t-shirt. No go. The more we tried, the more the air became choked with shed. (How was this scientifically possible?) We had to get out of the bathroom to have any chance of winning.

After retreating to the bedroom, we resumed fighting. No luck. Those freakin’ filaments weren’t coming off!

My usually chill husband reached a tipping point.

Then I had an idea.

Desperate times call for desperate measures.

How I Sucked It Up

I recalled seeing an old-school hand vacuum in the laundry area when we did our first walk through of the house. You know the kind everyone used to bust the dust back in the 80’s?

(Yeah, we’re going there.)

Well, I grabbed that vacuum like a boss and started going to town. Uptown and downtown. I vacuumed almost everywhere.

I went down as far as possible and up as far as possible. I left him to deal with “possible”.¹

But those boogers were tenacious! They were hanging on like a hair in a biscuit, and Gary was proving to be one tough biscuit!

I kept vacuuming until finally, it seemed my efforts were paying off. I’d sucked a few up.

And then finally, I started freaking out. (It’s not a real “situation” until I freak out.)

“What if the owners had cameras? What if they thought we were making porn? Would we have to pay an extra fee for kinking up the place? How am I going to dry off after my shower? All the towels are the same!”

I had to get in that bathroom, but the forecast did not look good. Flurries with a chance of blizzard.

I got angry. The clock was ticking on my hiking plans. And nothing messes with my hiking plans.

By, God I was getting in that shower! So, I did what any normal human armed with a hand vacuum would do. I started dust-busting the air.

Not the most effective tactic. The most neurotic? Sure. The most effective? No.

I’m sure you’re suprised.

It’s really too bad we didn’t capture this on video. (All but the naked parts, of course.)

I said to heck with it and took the plunge. I didn’t care if I had to look like a walking skin contagion all day. I had petroglyphs to see, dang it and I was already late.

There was the tiny shed (I mean shred) of hope that Gary’s towel was the only one with mange.

It wasn’t. The encore was just as magnificent. The shedding, the snowstorm, the vacuuming- everywhere.

Now you see why there aren’t photos? You’d need more than “parental guidance” to see all that.

We surrendered, finished getting ready, and set out for Saguaro. It didn’t take long to get over our sheddy start. The scenery was amazing!

Back in Tanque Verde

After a long day of hiking in Saguaro National Park, we got back to the casita hot, sweaty, and exhausted. Time for our second round of showers.

We washed and dried all of the towels first. You wouldn’t believe the aftermath in that dryer! Good thing we had the vacuum.

I couldn’t wait to get a shower and wash all that shed down the drain. But when I pulled off my clothes, I was mortified. (Not an uncommon occurrence.) There were still white threads all over my arms and shoulders. The spray-on sunscreen shellacked those suckers to my skin!

Not even a second shower got rid of it all. But after spending the day in desert splendor, I couldn’t make myself care. I just grabbed my best pair of big girl panties and dealt- for the next two days. By the third day, the shed was finally gone.

Gone, but not forgotten. I’m writing about it five years later. Like I said in the beginning, some memories stick with you more than others.

When I Think About My Tanque Verde Suck-Up

I laugh every time. Gary never does.

By the Way…

In case you’re wondering, we never complained to the owners about the towels.

And yes, I did clean the vacuum.

From the Library

1. This is an adapted quote from a family tale about my old 6th cousin Stanley. The first time that old cousin Stanley had to be bathed by a home healthcare worker, he told her, “You can wash as far down as possible and as far up as possible, but I’ll wash possible.” Priceless, don’t you think? ↩︎