In the past few months, one of my favorite indulgences has been the haven of a long, hot shower: alone with my thoughts, quiet, hot water drumming on my head, temples and achy back, smells of soapy goodness in warm humid air, scrubbed pores and even - on the very long showering days - shaved legs to boot.
This is not Ben's favorite phase seeing as I luxuriate in there until I've eeked every last drop of hot water from the tap and am forced out against my will by the cold, and he gets up for a shower after me. (what can I say? the early bird...)
So today, after feeling grungy through breakfast and a meeting, I am ready for a shower and this is how it goes: I begin my state of warm cleansing bliss (with the addition of a small naked boy on the other side of the shower curtain who poses the threat of pee all over the floor at any moment and who is repeating "I come in, I come in mama" like a mantra) when a little glob of extra body shampoo inexplicably flies -- from where? the bottle? my hand? mid-air?-- into my eye where it burns as if some small fiery meteor has landed.
So there I am hopping from foot to foot in pain in the slippery shower, sure to be blind forever in one eye, saying things like "Aaahh!" "ACck!" "Ow!" "OWW!", which make Silas worry and switch mantras to an urgent "mama? mama? mama?" As I am trying to rinse my eye, I realize the shampoo I just put in my hair is now streaming with the flushing water into my eyes, and as I try to reassure naked exiled Silas that Mama is fine (a lie), I resort to sticking my open burning blind eye straight into the hot shower stream (thereby probably singing all eye nerve endings, but I am blind anyway, so does it matter?)---
10 mintues later: naked Silas has entered the shower, my burning eye of fire is still closed and sure to be blind and brilliant red, and I am still attempting to flush it with water, which seems to do nothing.
By 3 PM, after playgroup, park, OB and chipotle, I am back in the shower (Silas is napping) and miraculously can see out of both eyes. This time the hot water runs out and I feel a little more sane emerging than when I entered -- ahh, thank goodness for take 2.