I mention all of this because it is very important to this story for you to understand that I am pretty much the only person who ever showers downstairs.
Today, LO went down for his late morning nap at about quarter to 11, and I quickly grabbed a towel and jumped in the shower. These showers are exercises in luxurious hurrying--I turn the temperature up to a few degrees below "skin sloughing off", just like I like it, and then I try to see how quickly I can soap and rinse without the child alarm sounding. (That is actually when the greyhound's habit of howling when LO is crying comes in handy. I generally can't hear LO over the sound of the water running, but I can hear Obie. He's more useful than a baby monitor.)
Today, I had just finished shampooing my hair when I saw it: A long dark hair clung to the tile next to me.
I shuddered with disgust and immediately began the time-honored in-shower method of trying to remove clinging hairs from shower stalls. I cupped water in my hands and threw it at the hair, trying to get it to walk itself down the tile.
Let's pause for a moment and examine the inherent absurdity of this plan of action:
1. I had only five minutes to shower and this was wasting important cleansing time.
2. I am the only occupant of the house with long, dark hair.
3. Even if you include all of our houseguests, I am still the only person with long, dark hair who has ever used our shower.
4. After each shower, I clean out the drain of any long, dark hairs that might have detached themselves from my head, using my bare hands.
5. The single hair I was so assiduously waterboarding into submission would only end up joining his fellows in the drain.
Of course, none of this occurred to me as I was wasting my luxuro-hurry time. Because neuroses do not respond well to logic. It was only as I was picking up the drain hairs that I realized how ridiculous the entire exercise had been.
Tomorrow, I plan on sterilizing the nail clippers that I use to even up the fingernails I've chewed ragged.