I was standing in the shower the other day, letting gallons of water go to waste, as I usually do while I philosophize about the world, when another brilliant idea hit me. I don’t remember what it was now, because the curse of being a shower genius entails my revelations desiccating as soon as I start drying off with the towel.
I’ve had this problem for some time, so I decided to do something about it. Eight dollars and a colorful plethora of washable markers later, I avidly began to scribble on the tiles of the bathroom, shampoo dripping off my head. To my disillusion, condensation had gotten to my new “notepad”, and now the ink of the marker was washing itself away in every stroke.
“Damn it!” said the genius in me. “If you’d spend more time in here you would have seen this coming!” The truth is I do spend enough time in there (which might account for me being late to everything, but that’s another story) and I did kind of saw that coming, but I wanted to make sure before I had to consider cold showers.
Cold water is actually better for your hair and skin. Plus, I live in Ecuador; the chances of running out of hot water in the middle of soaping up are as high as getting a bag of peanuts as a meal in an international flight.
No biggie. This morning I distractedly turned the hot water knob and then glanced down at the gray washable marker sitting next to the face wash. Sacrifices must be made. I turned off the hot water and began my humid routine in a “nippy” fashion. Turns out, it’s hard to find inspiration between chills. I’m certainly not going to bring a plastic-covered laptop into the shower – as one fellow suggested the other day – so I have to accept the fact that the genius in me might have to exist only in the wet confinements of my shower, just for me, and maybe the occasional invitee.