Sunday, July 26, 2009

I don't really feel like blogging. But here's a stupid story about me.

I know, right? What?

Yeah. I dunno. I really DID feel like blogging earlier today instead of tackling this frat-house I've been living in, but the anticipation of my shame when E came home and Lis brought her kids over made me keep cleaning all day. I actually sat down at the computer once and then thought better of it because my house was such a sty.

Yuck, I tell you.

I'm not the neatest person, but I don't really like it when the house is a mess. Let's just say that there was a big black pile of yuck in the sink with spoons sticking out of it at random intervals, and it had fur.

Yeah, you better shudder.

Speaking of fur (my, oh my that's a bad transition) the other reason for this post (besides CONSTANT use of parentheses and my whining about my lack of motivation to write anything tonight) is that I had a little episode with my razor this afternoon. Or I should say, without my razor.

Anybody who knows me more than two days learns that I am a little bit obsessive when it comes to leg shaving. Like, crazy. I can be camping and I will shave my legs. Winter? Yup, every day. Every single day if I can help it, come rain or sleet or snow. I'm like the US Postal service. Nothing can stop me. I JUST DON'T LIKE HAIRY LEGS. I've been this way since I started the process. I think a major contributing factor to my neurosis was the many, many, many years I spent as a ballet dancer--those pink tights are very unforgiving when it comes to stubble. Little spikes poking through the mesh? It makes my skin crawl. Let's not even talk about the pale shade of the tights.

I have to shave my legs EVERY DAY. I just do, okay? This has necessitated many a comic scene--balancing a tub of soapy water on the lid of the pit toilet in a few campgrounds, swinging a leg up so I could get my foot into the sink at the cabin (boiling water for warmth because the water heater was out), numerous yoga-like maneuvers in tiny shower stalls to get my foot up on the wall so I could manage it, DRY shaving when there is no other alternative. I'm committed, if nothing else. I get totally grossed out every winter when the girls in my dance classes go all Santa Cruz (it's their choice, fine,) BUT they have to talk about it! Why? Ew, ew, ew, ew, ew.

So the reason this is an issue today is that on Friday morning when I showered, my razor broke into about five parts right into my hand for no reason. No big deal, since I live within a 2 mile radius of at least 40 or 50 drugstores. The problem lies in the fact that I didn't shower yesterday (I know, ick--early morning soccer game, splashed some water on and took off, then fought against nature and didn't shave legs that night) and I also forgot to take care of BUYING A NEW RAZOR when I was out. Um, oops.

This afternoon after a few hours cleaning, I decided I smelled like the love child of Oscar the Grouch and Pigpen, so I turned on the shower. Then it hit me. NO RAZOR. I had just finished cleaning out the cupboards below the sink and my travel bag too, and chucked the travel razors I keep for emergencies. They were lying at the bottom of the garbage can outside, under that big black pile of yuck. Oh my heavens. No. My palms started to get sweaty. I'll just use E's... he won't mind this once, I thought. He'll understand. My heart stopped cold. E had taken his razor to his parents'. Defeated, I got in the shower. Great. I'm not about to drive to the store like this. I couldn't stand myself. I had to do something. I looked around, and I found one lone razor head sitting on top of the shower door. Just the top, the part with the blade.


I made do. What else is a girl going to do?

I held that little razor head between my fingers (it slipped out a thousand times, forcing me to have to retrieve it from the bottom of the shower and get all kinds of water up my nose and in my eyes), but I made it work.

It took me about FORTY-FIVE minutes to shower though. On the agenda for tomorrow? Hitting up the Walgreens before I leave town.

1 comment:

  1. That is me too! I need to shave my legs everyday whether they need it or not. You are hilarious