There was a strange man in my shower last night. I noticed him because of the hat, one of those newspaper boy’s caps from the 1930s. There was also a sweater vest involved.
Sweater vest? OMG…Rick Santorum? What was HE doing in my shower???
Before I could figure it out, Rick morphed into a monkey. A chimpanzee to be exact. Stuff happens when you squint… in life… and in the shower.
I’d seen the monkey before but it was the first time for the guy in the vest. A political figure at that. Go figure.
Usually I shower with Homer Simpson. He’s there a lot. Lurking in the glass block, depending on the time of day, the shadows. And there was a period of time when Jerry Garcia was a regular. It was the hair. And the beard. He was on the floor right by the door. My husband swore it was Jesus. We argued about this for days. Jesus! Jerry! When he began began talking up e-bay I figured I had no choice. Clean the shower or lose a couple of tiles.
So I emptied a bottle of Mildew! Soap! Scum! remover and washed our lord and savior down the drain. Pffffft…Just. Like. That. No thunderbolts. No smites. No heavenly retribution. Guess it wasn’t Jesus after all.
And now the politicians are showing up. Okay, so only one. But they’ll multiply, seemingly overnight.
And that’s reason enough to scrub down the shower.