This could be a daily post, if only I'd do it immediately after I showered.
Shower brilliance works much like dreaming. When you are actively engaged in showering or dreaming, the ideas that come to you are clear, logical and fleshed out. Endorphins, those endogenous opioid neuropeptides, flood your system and you feel the euphoria that only comes with the knowledge that you possess an idea that will make you rich and famous. Or perhaps you get a small idea that excites you; like finally thinking of a scenario where you might slide the words "endogenous opioid neuropeptides" into a conversation. We've all been there.
Everything is a good idea in the shower and everyone is a total genius.
Then there are the questions that come up that you never consider when dry:
- When I'm feeding the cows, I notice that they are plagued with those terrible biting flies. Not one of those flies ever lands on me. Why in the heck is a fly turning up its metaphorical nose at me? WHAT'S WRONG WITH ME??? They land on cow patties...but not me. I think I'll shower longer.
- On the other hand, mosquitoes love me. They can be happily floating on rancid funk-water that's pooling under the garden hose, when one of them says to the other ones, "You know what would be better? Biting Cherdo, that's what."
- I wonder if the mosquitoes ever gossip and talk to the flies. I suspect the flies have nothing good to say about me. At least that is the impression I get.
Just add water and I begin to think that I'm a dang good singer. Humming turns to a chorus or two of a favorite tune. Why stop? I'll tell you why. Because I always run out of hot water before we get to the big ending of Les Miserables. It's still lukewarm at "Empty Chairs at Empty Tables," but by the finale I'm freezing and trying not to insert "woooooo-weeeeee" inappropriately.
- Occasionally, I think I can rap; and in the shower - I'm right.
- Toweling off produces tone-deafness and apathy about about my musical stage career.
Important mysteries have to be solved in the shower, so it's good that I'm in my waterlogged genius state. Scrubbing and singing, I realized I was using a well-known soap that will cause red welts somewhere on my body, usually the most inconvenient and uncomfortable place. Who was in the shower last? Why did they put this in here? Do I have Benadryl? Maybe I'll just rinse really, really well...way past the finale...no matter the water temperature... If those guys cared about me at all, they'd know I can't use this soap. How selfish of them! Do I treat them that way - no! I'm always thinking of them. This is outrageously inconsiderate. I can't believe that...oh, hey, there's another bar of soap in here. Cool.
I make general statements out loud while showering, like "Weird Al is a genius" and "Salted caramel and Whiteout would both be the bomb as a shampoo scent." Then I look around the shower as if I am afraid there's someone with me who will shower-bully me over my bold choices. I have a Peerless shower head; you'd think that would put me at ease.
If I could get a demand water heater, I could rule the world.