Losing Streak

Yesterday morning I got out of the shower and looked at the towel rack and my towel was not there. I forgot I left it in my room, which I normally do not do. I stood in the tub to airdry as best I could, but that’s extremely difficult because I just finished showering, and the bathroom is all foggy and humid and my skin felt all slick and probably wouldn’t get dry anytime soon. So to speed up the process, I patted myself dry with my pajamas and it seemed to work just fine. My hair was dripping, and I wrung out as much water as I could. I cloaked my pajama pants across my shoulders so I wouldn’t get my outfit for work wet while I brushed my teeth. When I got to my room, I dried my hair properly with the towel I left there but was nevertheless impressed with myself for MacGyvering drying off without a towel.

When I got home that evening, I didn’t hang my towel up in the bathroom, but as I was getting ready for bed, I put my towel where I would see it in the morning so that I would take it to the bathroom on my way to shower. Seemed like a pretty sensible thing to do for being lazy. I woke up early to touch up on my seminary lesson. I usually lie in bed for a few minutes mentally going through my wardrobe trying to figure out what to wear for the day. So I got up and set aside my clothes and finished the seminary lesson. I went to the bathroom to take a shower. It was a nice shower with the shampooing and soap-lathering and rinsing and repeating. And hot water. Man, hot water is nice. I shut off the water and pulled open the shower curtain.

Through the steam, all it took was a quick glance. The steam wasn’t thick, so I saw right away that I forgot to take the towel from the place in my room where I THOUGHT I’D REMEMBER IT. I almost swore out loud, but if I stop it before it leaves my tongue, it also goes nowhere in my brain. Probably because not hearing it coming out of my own mouth doesn’t reinforce it. So instead of bad word materializing in my mind, it was something like “oh, blurgurk.” 

I did NOT want to use my pajamas to dry off again. I thought about what it would take if I were to scramble to my room to get the towel. You see, I share the master bathroom. Running naked to my room would mean having to run through my roommate’s room. I thought it out: if I turned out the bathroom light before I opened the door, then it would be dark. And I know my roommate would most likely not wake up, since it takes a near-apocalypse to rouse her. So that’s what I did. I dried my feet on the bathmat and turned off the light. I opened the bathroom door and made a run for it. 

The air was cold against my warm skin. The second I stepped into my roommate’s room, I turned into a goosebump. I opened my roommate’s door and hustled to my room. The rest of the apartment was dark. I grabbed my towel from the chair where it was lying. I had no time to be self-conscious, but I couldn’t help but think somebody saw me. But I noticed that at that moment, getting back to the steamroom of the bathroom was far more important. Being cold is bad enough. I do not recommend being naked and cold. I do not recommend being naked and cold and risking your roommate seeing you in the buff as you sprint through her room. I headed back to my roommate’s room. I left the door slightly ajar behind me as I stepped into the dark and warm bathroom. 

I shut the bathroom door quietly, then I turned the light back on. I dabbed the thick, woven cloth of the towel to absorb the extra moisture from my skin. I put on clothes. Clothes! That must have been the longest 8 seconds of my life. I can’t imagine life without clothes. I don’t remember being comfortable and cozy and naked in the womb. I think that’s a major difference between me a lot of other people. They have fond prenatal memories and have no qualms whatsoever about not wearing clothes on a regular basis. They would have strolled lazily to their room to pick up their towel they forgot; perhaps stop by the kitchen on the way to have a piece of toast.

How do people do it? How do people run across soccer fields or recite lines on a Broadway stage in the nude? How do toddlers drop their drawers and not care how vulnerable they are? I HAVE to remember my towel. I don’t ever want to run across my apartment like that ever again. I’m getting off my duff right now and hanging up my towel, right THERE, where it’s supposed to be, on the towel rack in the bathroom. Naked is scary, guys.

Shooting the Buns

Clicking on the photo will take you to Flickr, where you will you find more bunny goodness. It’s getting close to Easter, after all. And if Easter means anything, shouldn’t it mean fluffy, cuddly, lagamorph deliciousness? If you click on “Detail,” some of the photos have captions. Can I just say how hard it is to get a good shot, because the rabbits for some reason don’t like a camera in their faces or near their ever-sensitive ears. I mean, the diva and her bodyguard, they should be used to paparazzi by now. They hippity-hop away, and I chase after them until they find a secure place where I can’t get to. Then I pretend to leave, but I keep the camera poised until they think it’s safe to come back out. Then I snap, and it’s cute, and they can’t help but agree it’s cute, so they decide not to sue me. Can you believe how clean Chicken’s ear is? It’s just so cute and fleshy-pink and cartilaginous, and if you bend it, it will spring right back to straightness. And if you are privileged to look all the way into her ear, you just might find the secret to eternal life. Or a wormhole to another dimension. And if you ask nicely, she might lay a Cadbury Creme Egg for you. Bok-bok-bok-bok – BOK!