I didn't take a shower this morning.
I know, what an odd way to open up a ten-minute writing session. But it's more than just the idea that I'm feeling a little sticky at the moment. And a little itchy. Which, when you think about it, is really a first world problem. I doubt I smell. But then again, as they say, if you do smell you're usually the last person to know. But I'm going to assume that with the, literally, tens of thousands of showers I've taken over the course of my lifetime that my body is so used to be clean all the time that even when I decide not to take a shower for one morning it can magically reset to a previously-showered state.
The reason, however, that I bring this up at all is not to give you great insight into my hygenic habits, but to note the (very) mild thrill that I get out of not showering is that it's one of the few times when I, as an adult, get to do something out-of-the-ordinary. I've been conditioned--again, a first world problem--to get up every day, pee in a clean bathroom all my own, brush my teeth with some space-age toothpaste, and take a shower in water that is always hot--or mildly warm, as I like it. Then I get dressed, choosing from a variety of clothes, that are also very clean and drive to work in a car that, while not extravagent, is serviceable, perhaps to some, even enviable.
Life is mundane, structured, and risk-less. Not always. Just 99.9% of the time. So my big escape from the chains of modernity in 2019 America is to forgo a shower for one morning and pretend to live like my Stone Age ancestors.
Of course, maybe I am a little ripe right now.
I could use a little Irish Spring.
I know, what an odd way to open up a ten-minute writing session. But it's more than just the idea that I'm feeling a little sticky at the moment. And a little itchy. Which, when you think about it, is really a first world problem. I doubt I smell. But then again, as they say, if you do smell you're usually the last person to know. But I'm going to assume that with the, literally, tens of thousands of showers I've taken over the course of my lifetime that my body is so used to be clean all the time that even when I decide not to take a shower for one morning it can magically reset to a previously-showered state.
The reason, however, that I bring this up at all is not to give you great insight into my hygenic habits, but to note the (very) mild thrill that I get out of not showering is that it's one of the few times when I, as an adult, get to do something out-of-the-ordinary. I've been conditioned--again, a first world problem--to get up every day, pee in a clean bathroom all my own, brush my teeth with some space-age toothpaste, and take a shower in water that is always hot--or mildly warm, as I like it. Then I get dressed, choosing from a variety of clothes, that are also very clean and drive to work in a car that, while not extravagent, is serviceable, perhaps to some, even enviable.
Life is mundane, structured, and risk-less. Not always. Just 99.9% of the time. So my big escape from the chains of modernity in 2019 America is to forgo a shower for one morning and pretend to live like my Stone Age ancestors.
Of course, maybe I am a little ripe right now.
I could use a little Irish Spring.
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