Admittedly, showering is a good thing. In fact, I recommend it daily. It's just one of those things that we don't talk about, but better be doing. Of course, since this is my blog, I've decided to share my shower story with you although it isn't necessarily an endorsement for you sharing your shower stories on the net (or in the comments, but hey, we all crave comment love).
Yesterday I got home relatively early from work, and since my schedule was somewhat altered already, decided to take a shower in the late afternoon instead of the usual late at night before bed (TMI? I'm just having a post-modern moment of awareness of discourse--I mean, is it necessary to share my hygiene schedule?).
Anyway, here I am freshly scrubbed and dressed up in my finest jeans and t-shirt, when I decide to go outside. The sun was still pretty bright, there was a soft wind with a hint of honeysuckle in the air, and BAMM, just like that, I was transported to my childhood, circa 1967 or '68.
My mom used to bathe me in the late afternoon and then I was allowed to go outside while she prepared dinner. All I was allowed to do was visit with the other kids because I couldn't get dirty again, but it was okay--I don't imagine that I was outside for very long before I was called back in. Nevertheless, the feeling of being outside in the fresh air, with the sun shining warmly, was oddly comforting, and that's the feeling that came back to me in the afternoon.
Usually it's a smell or taste that brings the blast from the past, but this time the combination of the warm sun and the cool breeze brought back memories of playing in the dirt with my friends.
I hate to admit it, but I had the urge to go make some mud pies.