QMusings

I can bound out of bed and into my running shoes before the sun comes up, but am less than enthused about taking a shower. I have mixed feelings about taking a shower. It’s not a love-hate thing, more of a jumping-into-the-pool-on-a-hot-day thing. It’s as if taking that shower means my day has officially begun. However, once I have the hot water spraying on me I revel in it.

A shower means I am starting the day fresh, I’m a new me, all the bad stuff is washed away. I will emerge brand new. At the very least, the sleep-wrinkles will be steamed out.

I know that time doesn’t work this way, but no matter how rushed or behind I am, it’s difficult for me to believe that time in the shower “counts”. It’s weird. I feel I am in a space where time stands still. Maybe it’s the sound of running water that blocks everything out. Or that happy slapping sound of feet in a puddle. Or the fact that being in a shower is a soapy sudsy free for all where you can splash to your heart’s content and it’s OK.

Or maybe it’s mother-love, the steam, the sweet scent of soap, the warmth, the comfort.

It’s childhood-in-a-box.

It’s timeless.

And it doesn’t even have to be my own shower.

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