Monday, January 20, 2014

Shower Quest 2014: A Foaming Hand Soap, a Paper Towel and a Dream

This really was not supposed to be a difficult task. I am 42 years old and have showered independently for 30+ years. Why have a complete breakdown in my comprehension of the fundamentals now? Isn't it like riding a bike? Once you get the hang of it, it kinda sticks with you. You know, like old pieces of luggage or the lyrics to Hopelessly Devoted To You.  I overshared, didn't I? If your answer is "yes"... buckle up. You ain't seen nothin' yet.

The year was... oh heck, this happened today. TODAY. Even though we have a camper with a fully-outfitted bathroom, I was feeling a bit outnumbered by boys...a couple of whom were especially rambunctious and so I decided to journey up to the nearest bathhouse to shower, dress, do my make-up. The works. And, because we are some of the only idiots that decide to camp in the dead of winter, I felt certain I would have the place to myself (which I did.)

So off I drive to the bathhouse with the essentials in tow:  clothes, make-up/toiletry bag, hair dryer, brush. I'm all set. I walk into the expansive women's side and proceed to spread out my things secretly relishing the quiet. No echos of a handheld gaming device within earshot and I hadn't heard the word "poothead" in at least 10 minutes. I might as well have been a princess in my castle high on the hill.

But, princesses would most likely have some sort of staff member that would remind them that when showering one's body, one usually needs some sort of towel item with which to dry off one's body upon exiting said shower. But I didn't. And when did I realize this? Well, as soon as the water had gotten just the right temperature and I was naked as the day I was born. Now, if you must know, I agree with you. I should NOT have to have a servant to remind me that I need a towel when showering. But that is totally beside the point. Or not. But still.

So this is where you get to participate in my story. Like one of the cool books from when I was in my teens, you get to choose which path the main character should take at a crucial juncture in the story.

Choice A:  Character realized her oversight and, in a mature and preferably modest fashion, gets dressed, gathers her things and drives back to the camper where she runs in, grabs a towel and returns to the bathhouse to shower with a proper drying sequence afterwards.

Choice B:  Character realized her oversight and, because she is too lazy to get her things and drive back to the camper and she's already undressed and the water temp is JUST RIGHT OH YES IT IS, she wraps her jeans around herself (yeah that worked about as good as you're thinking it did) and runs like she's on fire across the bathhouse to the towel dispenser and, while trying to hold a pair of jeans around her with one hand, proceeds to dispense thin, campground-grade paper towels praying to the heavens that no one walks through the door. She then scurries back to the shower, drops the jeans, drapes the wad o' towels over the curtain (because that won't call attention to her lack of preparedness) and begins to step into the shower.

Well, which one did you choose? Clearly the correct answer for MY story was A. (insert wild, hysterical laughter here). If you are reading this blog because you have known me for at least five minutes then you picked B right off the bat.


You didn't think my oversight stopped at the towel, did you? Of COURSE not. Although clothes, and make-up and brushes and hairdryers (and even towels!) are important, a shower just really isn't serving its full purpose without....soap...or shampoo? Yes. I seriously drove to a bathhouse to take a shower and the ONLY two things I forgot were a towel and shampoo. I even amaze me sometimes.

So.... because the wrapped-in-jeans scenario was mildly stressful to say the least, I throw on my long shirt and dance across the cold tile to one of the hand soap dispensers and proceed to pump, pump, pump this MASSIVE heaping of FOAM into my hand. I raced back to my shower looking as if I was running with a tiny white dog or the top of a lemon icebox pie in my hand. I close the curtain and am forced to soap up my dry head of hair so I can successfully remove the clean shirt I was planning to wear without the result being a sleeve full of soap.

You know, there are days where I have wrangled a thousand people to ensure the success of a big event and there are days when I just have no idea what my name is. This must have been one of those days. But I must say, the paper towels did the job and my hair even seemed a bit bouncier than normal. Maybe I've stumbled onto something???

My friends will indeed declare this as a "Katie Story" because they claim these things only happen to me. Even so, I think next time I'll stick to the little bathroom in our camper where all the "essentials" are within grasp.

Wonder if that foaming hand soap is only sold in bulk???

1 comment:

Sincerely Anna said...