Even though my Beloved Roommate is no longer residing in the same city as me, I believe we are somehow still connected– and I don’t mean that in the spiritual sense.
While chatting with said Roommate the other day, I was informed she was sick, a classic case of the common cold. I mocked her a bit, noting that it was August, the hottest month of the year. And while most 20-somethings were sipping girly drinks beach or pool-side, she was downing orange juice like Tropicana was going out of business.
Well, either the Roommate has a voodoo doll resembling me, or indeed, even 250 miles apart, we are still entirely capable of sharing germs, because this morning I awoke to a sore throat, a runny nose, and many other symptoms too graphic to share with the general public.
To make matters worse, it appears my cleaning lady, in an effort to remove all semblance of dirt from my bathroom, disassembled my shower head and failed to figure out how to reassemble it– rendering me shower-less. Now, despite my invalid status, I was determined to bathe properly, shampoo and conditioner and body wash and all.
Even though there was not a drop of caffeine rushing through my veins, I was prepared to put my $200,000 liberal arts college education to work, and employ all the elements of a 21st Century lavatory to complete the task at hand.
Behold, the birth of a new how-to guide:
Warning: This guide requires that an individual be in a position to squat, kneel, and assume any and all necessary yoga positions.
1. Begin by turning on the sink, rather than the bath faucet. Employing the sink is a much more sustainable solution, as less water will rush forth from the traditionally smaller faucet.
2. Use the sink to cover your basics– washing hands, feet, in-between areas. Apply soap and rinse, lather, and roll.
3. If necessary, shave, following Step 2, but employing shaving cream in place of traditional Sabon soap.
4. After your body no longer wreaks of last night’s subway ride, prepare the tub. Your hair, assuming you are neither bald nor sporting the Wendy Wellesley buzz cut, will require bath water to succeed in removing all New York City pollutants currently residing on your scalp.
5. Now for the fun part: Step inside the bath tub, sit/lie back, and lean so that your hair is directly under the faucet. This may require a bit of maneuvering, as you try to find the perfect position in which your hair, rather than your eyes, nose, and mouth are directly in the line of the water. Be patient. Even without an ounce of caffeine in my system, I figured it out.
6. Apply shampoo, then conditioner, leaving extra time to remove all soapy residue. Again, a bath faucet releases less water than a shower head does, and so the process of rinsing your hair of all of its bubbly, hydrating goodness will take additional time.
7. Splash warm water– assuming you have any left after this extended bathing session– over your body for one last rinse through.
8. Mission accomplished. Go treat yourself to Starbucks or Stumptown Coffee Roasters. You are a hygienic rockstar, and believe me, your co-workers will appreciate the great lengths you have gone to groom yourself properly.
Now I must return to my Trafalgar Square tea blend (available for purchase here), which tastes like a peppermint patty in zero calorie form.