For many years, I’ve followed a strict, “Don’t Look” policy in regard to the cabinet drawers in the master bath. This is not because I’m afraid there’d be spiders, or because I’m afraid of self-knowledge. The opposite in fact. I’m a lot like that mouse with a cookie.
If I look in those drawers, I’ll have to clean them. And if I clean them out, 10 minutes later, I’ll have sent Mark to the Rent-A-Center for a jackhammer to dig out the tiles for a complete renovation. And it will spread like the hanta virus until I’ve torn up the whole house and we’re living in a tent with the dogs.
But today I was tired of the hairdryer on the counter, so I bit the bullet. I just did it. I opened the drawers.
And I found some pre-911 travel sized shampoo and conditioner, a nearly empty container of rotten aloe vera, several Sponge Bob bandaids that I rounded up and placed neatly in another drawer, and 23 new toothbrushes from the dentist.
The Grand Prize winner, the Big Dog Daddy was an industrial sized brick of “French Milled Lavendar Soap.”
I’m sure that this was a gift, because it was wrapped in a color that doesn’t match my bathroom (I’m a teensy-tiny bit OCD about that color thing), or I’d have artfully displayed in on a shelf.
I started to take it downstairs for my daughter to use, but was afraid she’d herniate a disk trying to lift it, and in an Oprah moment decided that:
I AM WORTHY!
I’ll use the soap. French milled sounds fancy and as quick as I took to spa day, I reckon I’d really, really like fancy soap.
And the jury is still out on that. What I can say is that while this bar smells good and lathers up, it’s a dang brick. If you squeeze that slimy bar too hard, you’ll put your eye out.
(While I’m at it, I’m gonna start the month of Thanksgiving a week before everybody else, exposing my extreme piety to the world.)
Today I am thankful for running water, hot and cold, a bathtub big enough to lie down in, people who were thoughtful enough to give me a gift, my husband for doing the laundry and putting clean towels next to the tub, my children for making me smile, my friends for listening to me, my family for eating Lebanese food with me, my animals for keeping the critters out of my house, and the good Lord for the life in my veins.