towel psychology

There are three pegs on the back of the door that can be reached from my shower.  A towel hangs on each of the end pegs, and my pajamas hang in the middle.  Father Bird has taken a shower before me and gone away to work. 

At the end of my shower, I reach out to take a towel and am presented with a logic puzzle.  He can only have used one of the towels.  They both look the same.  Now I have to think like Father Bird would think as he got out of the shower.  Did he simply reach for the closest towel, dry himself, and put it back on the closest hook?  If so, the closest towel will be wet. 

Or did he do the same thing I'm doing, and try to figure out what I'd do when I took a shower later?  Did he think, she'll just grab the closest towel and if I've already used it, it'll be wet?  If so, then maybe he reached around the closest towel, dried off with the farthest towel, and hung it back on its hook. If he thought about me enough after his shower to care whether I had a dry towel. 

Hmph, I think.  I'm sure he didn't do this crazy, complicated towel-psychology thing.  It's not that I don't think he cares, it's just, really, who thinks about stuff this much?  So I reach for the farthest towel, because that one will certainly be unused. 

It's sopping wet.  I love this man.