before I go on I should note that anyone squeamish or otherwise offended by blatant acts of naked bodies should stop reading. Okay, if you are one of those I'll count to ten to give you time to close your eyes and turn away. 10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4321, zero. Those of you who have decided to remain, shame on you. Anyhow…
This morning I was taking my morning scrub in the tub. This is a habit I've gotten into over the years, and as habits go it is a refreshing one. Dependent on the night before, if it were a really moist and hot night, or dry and cold, I attempt to find the perfect water temperature for my morning scrub. The perfect temperature being one that is cold enough to shock me out of sleep, yet warm enough so that my heart doesn't stop.
I am not what could be called an easy riser. So, I have a two fold purpose for my morning shower agenda; one, cleanliness, and two, shock and awe wake up already. This morning I had just finished finding that perfect spot on the water gauge and was about to lather up for a good clean, when I dropped the bar of soap I was using. Quick as a cat, if you can image a cat choosing to shower over licking itself clean with its bristled tongue, I bent down to retrieve the soap.
Now here is the mystery. I couldn't find the bar of soap. I have a shower rug that I use on the bottom of the tub, for protection. I have never fallen in a tub, but I respect the laws of Murphy, and if I were to injure myself, it would be in the morning, slipping in the shower, not a pretty selfie. So, after scanning in and around the tub for the bar soap and not finding it, I thought it must have wedged itself, somehow, under the shower rug. But that would be nearly impossible.
Have you ever had an occasion for contemplation of the near impossible? Maybe you ordered coffee and when you reach to pay for it you find that you've left your money in the car. So you root around in your purse, or pocket looking for money that isn't there. You know from the last time this happened that you won't find anything. But you look anyway. You have to at least look as if you had cash when you walked into line, which you are now holding up, but no one minds because it's happened to them, and they all double check that they haven't forgotten to bring cash, and they're happy it's not they who are now standing where you are, desperately searching for El Dorado. That's what I was faced with, so to speak. I knew that the bar of soap couldn't be under the shower rug, but it didn't seem like it could be anywhere else.
What would you do? Would you continue to look for the soap in and around the tub that you've already searched? Would you stop showering because after all you're mostly clean and you need to get to work? Would you look under the shower rug knowing it's not there?
If you think you'd continue to look for soap where you've already looked, Einstein has some words for you. If you choose to stop showering because you feel you're clean enough, eeewwww. If you choose the moral, upright, best thing to do, you'd look under the shower mat. I'll take what's behind curtain number one, Monte. That's what I did, I looked under the shower rug and, believe it or not, it wasn't there. Nope, not there. I don't know where that thing went. I live in a world of science, so I know it's somewhere. I know it wasn't called to some better place, or abducted by a superior alien race. It's somewhere, I just don't know where. Maybe the N.S.A. took it?
Not being able to find the soap, I chose to lather the rest of my body with shampoo, soap is soap after all. I was running a little late, but I did have enough time to stop off and get my morning coffee, another one of my habits, before entering my work space, smelling like Herbal Essence.
What happened to the soap? I don't know, I don't care to know.
There are a lot of mysteries in life. Why are men from Mars and women from Venus? Why do people think that baked skin is sexy? Why can't I get a raise? Isn't it more fun that life is filled with a whole bunch more whys than answers? I think it's awesome that the universe can tap us on the shoulder and demonstrate how little we know. Not knowing where the soap landed may be a small thing, but it can lead to large questions, and large questions keeps us humble. T.G.I.F., good buddy, T.G.I.F.
An interesting piece of flash fiction. The only major thing I would say is that I felt that the very end was rushed. After the question 'What happened to the soap?' I felt that the paragraph following this was a little rushed and could have been added to a little more just to round off the story more. I will admit that I think that it will be a tricky thing to achieve well but it could pay off a lot for the story as a whole.
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