I don’t particularly like showering. I haven’t recalled any traumatic showering injuries (mostly because The Awkward Bucket incident happened much too late to blame). I have no idea why taking the time to have clean hair and shaved armpits makes me suddenly have to do dishes, pick up sticks, drive to the store and stare at a wall.
If cleanliness is next to godliness, then I’m seated next to a 100 pound gorilla with a GI bug. And I’m wearing the hats, headbands and perfume to prove it.
I forget to shower so often that it’s on my to-do list.
Once I became a parent and we moved beyond the infant stage of bathing once a week in a pot, I realized that I was passing along my penchant for dirt by forgetting to bathe my children.
So my kids’ bath days are also on my to-do list because we KNOW how oblivious I am to dirt-paint-stink.
Of course, when we finally decide it’s time to check the hard work of sitting in hot water and using soap off our to-do list, we take it VERY seriously.
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