Happy Fun Cog

Last week I felt obligated to go through with my least favorite form of housecleaning: scrubbing the tub. I've tried using natural-ish cleaners, but always end up coming back to that type of spray that foams up on contact and supposedly does most of the cleaning for you (which is nice, because it's probably also giving everyone cancer).

Working in sections, I sprayed the bath with the cleaner and let the chemicals sink in a bit before working it over with a scrub brush. Once the entire bath had been scrubbed, I ran the shower to wash away all the cleaning foam/household carcinogen.

It was in the middle of one of the few real summer days we've had in New England. The room was bright and hot with the sun's sprayed rays. I put the shower on cold, stripped off my clothes and glasses and stepped into the shower to direct the flow of the water all over the foam-flecked tub. Getting splashed with cold water on a hot day was a bonus.

My shower curtain is white and partly translucent, living up to its description as "rice paper style." As I stood in the shower, directing the flow of water, the curtain caught the sun's light and suffused everything with a soft whiteness. I couldn't see exactly where the water was landing; without my glasses, I was relying on a mix of sight, sound, and intuition.

It struck me as a metaphor for what's going on in my life right now (no one ever tells you that majoring in English scars you for life). Things are bright, but I'm also having to confront the fact that I can't really see what's going on.