A time to wash, and a time to… not
I have no way of explaining how it happens, but it does. That strange phenomenon of “timing.” I am not speaking of relationships… although I currently could… but no. Today, I am referring to, literally, the precision and accuracy of timing.
When walking toward a curb, one begins calculating and adjusting her steps at least 10 feet in advance, assuring a seamless arrival at the sidewalk, and allowing an easy, natural gait when confronted with the last step up onto the concrete. She might have to adjust her timing earlier – to skip and chassé in the middle of the crosswalk, perhaps – but in the end, her final step is confident and graceful. Whatever she has to do early on to make her final step successful, she will do.
I apply this principle in my own life, especially when it comes to showering.
I do not enjoy showering. In fact, I get depressed and overwhelmed when I consider the fact that it’s an activity that has to be a part of my life FOR-EV-ER. The endless cycle of wash, shave, scrub, dry, curl, lotion, makeup, spray… perhaps I’m a little high-maintenance, but I, for one, want to minimize the amount of times I have to repeat this sequence of events. And so, to ease my pain, I look at my calendar, and depending on the activities of the week, plot out when I will take my showers. I even pencil them into my red leather planner. Things to consider: workout schedule, whether or not I will have worn sunscreen, dates, weddings, meetings at work, the possibility and likelihood of a ponytail, etc.
Call me crazy – see if I care… or if I change my ways.
Depending on my week of events, sometimes I need to take two showers two days in a row – quick steps on the crosswalk, if you will. Other times, I will stretch it out as far as I can go – long, extended steps. Ultimately, it does not matter the manner of pace that I take – all that I am concerned about is the final step, the ending mark, which is usually a “look cute” event of some sort.
I am operating with 4th-day hair today – as in, I have not showered since Saturday night. Please don’t be grossed out – if you saw me today, there would be no denying the fact that my coif has reached a crescendo of glamour unknown to every-day-showerers. I cannot explain why – it just is. After the initial shower and styling, my hair looks better and better and better with each day that passes.
To a point.
Tonight, I will gather all of my strength and sheer force of will, and reluctantly heave myself under the shower-head. The motivation? My beautiful friend Christina’s arrival from Boston tomorrow. (Know her, read her, love her.)
There is an art to timing. And I am learning to perfect it, even when the in-between times are full of stumbles and grease.