Showering is Very Important

It occurs to me that there are times in my life when the daily shower is the only thing that seperates me from a hobo. Not the endearing, "Oh you can tell she is a good person because of her kind eyes" kind of hobo, either. The "Clearly that poor woman is suffering from some serious mental illness and we should roll up the windows before we stop at this light and she asks us for one of our tacos" kind.

Let me explain.

Once in a while, my personality, my humanity, and my will to live take a little vacation. When this occurs, I basically become a useless blob, like this:


That's no good.

When in this state, which can persist for days, weeks, or months, the daily shower prevents me from crossing over into complete crazy-person-dom. The problem is that when I feel this way, the effort involved in the whole vertical bathing process seems absolutely herculean. Then I think about the cat. And I get in the shower.

Somewhere between the conditioner and the shaving cream, I start to gain momentum. Yes! I can do this! I do not have to be homeless! I'm just like everyone else!



The feeling starts to fade somewhere around the time I am shaving what seems to be my TENTH LEG and I realize that now I am too tired to towel off, dry my hair, iron clothes, get dressed, and the various other daily building blocks of a well-groomed professional. Then I think about the only thing worse than a lazy cat still in bed covered in cheetos:


I realize at this point that I have mixed my metaphors. Is she trying to avoid becoming a hobo or looking like a wet cat? Should we really be laughing at what is starting to resemble a real emotional instability? Why is she eating Cheetos so early in the morning? Is she now referring to herself in the third person, or is this paragraph supposed to be US talking?

This is the point in the blog when I realize I am totally lost and have no way of ending the post in any sensical manner. So I will instead say that today I took a shower. So go me.