Meeting up with k and d and e has gotten to the point where we're all kind of addicted to each other. It's also something I kind of dread now, because there's no way this time will be as fun or effortless as the last time ... but it always is. "But it can't last forever," sez me. "Might as well get used to not having it at all." "But that doesn't make any sense," sez me. "Seize the day and damn the consequences!"
Yeah, whatever. The new job is working out well, especially since I've been getting up at 9am to take a shower every day. Taking a shower first thing in the morning really jumpstarts your day; who knew? Ladies and gentlemen, I am twenty-three years old and this is a realization. Don't blame my parents; I've always questioned the validity of daily hygiene habits to the point where I would lie about washing my hair, even if I was sitting in the bathtub with my hair wet, I didn't want to wash my hair. And I never conditioned it when I was young; I didn't like it to feel greasy.
One time, when I was 19 and in between Santa Barbara and Seattle and living at home for three months in a period of my life I call "The Dead Zone," my mom was trying to get me to be a responsible human being by waking me up before she left for work. I had no job, no desire to get a job, and no school, so I tended to stay up until 4am drinking coffee and cutting my hair and then sleep until 5pm. One morning she got super pissed and demanded that I get in the shower before she left for work. So I went into the bathroom, turned on the shower, made a nest of towels, and fell back asleep. Ten minutes or three hours later, my mom knocks on the door wondering what's taking me so long. I open it, my hair still dry (damn my grogginess), and she flips out and I think that was the day my mom realized that nothing can conquer teenage stubbornosity.