I love showers, mainly because up to my late teen years, my parents stuck to the habit from earlier generations of having just a weekly bath, and thought that was more than enough, thank you very much, as far as personal hygiene was concerned. Anything beyond that they considered a waste of water and a vice of modern life they took pride in not partaking in. Besides, we had no hot water at the place where we lived on working days, so they drove me on weekends to another place they owned, for the specific purpose of bathing.
Needless to say, after puberty, it became more and more embarrassing to see my classmates noticing my body odor, complaining about it and making even more fun of me because of it than they otherwise would. I eventually decided to make do with the cold water and have a shower every morning before breakfast. Of course, my parents, who had decided very early in my life that I was mentally defective in some way or other, and had ever since made a habit of explaining any behavior of mine they didn't like as a symptom of mental illness, made no exception with my cold showers, and only grudgingly tolerated them. They didn't forget to remind me now and then that I was yielding cowardly to peer pressure, when I should be proudly standing up to it.
However, I hate the logistics which most of the time surrounds showers in my life. Effectively, I'm always showering behind someone's back, and I let myself remain filthy and stinking, alone in my room, waiting for the next time I've heard no plausibly human motion outside for long enough and I'm not sleepy, or it's early morning and I have to get ready to head off to my pseudo-job.
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The red lake has been forgotten. A dust devil stuns you long enough to shroud forever those last shards of wisdom. The breeze rocking this forlorn wasteland whispers in your ears, “Não resta mais que uma sombra”.
Last edited by Spiderpig on 21 Jul 2018, 7:11 am, edited 1 time in total.
21 Jul 2018, 6:00 am
