So while in the shower, today, [yes, I sing in there, if you don’t, you’re weird. I learned at a young age–from Bert and Ernie–that you are supposed to sing in the bath…guess it carried over to showers] I guess I got nostalgic for camp because somehow I got shaving cream in my ear.
Oh Crud Wars, how I missed you (apparently). Sure, it was my favorite evening [not that anyone believed me], and my last year at camp, I had to abstain since I didn’t have enough time to participate, shower, and get ready for the night’s skit. Still, it’s been years since I’ve been to camp [helping at the archery club only sort of counts; I can run away from those kids (and, it’s not “up north”)]. You’d think by now I’d know how to shower without sticking shaving cream in my year.
At least I didn’t jam flour into my eyes. Or mushy horse feed. Or slime.
All in all, I suppose it could have been worse.
Except, I just know there’s a bit left in my ear somewhere. Even after the toweling and the cotton swabbing. I’m going to fall asleep tonight and it’ll be there waiting. It’ll trickle into my brain. Or onto my pillow (doubtful).