Streams of Consciousness

I try to turn on the shower way before I'm ready to get in.
It's coooold.
At night time, you can feel the winter coming in through the shower door.

When I grow up, I'm going to have insulation in my house.

So I stood there, like the proverbial frog in a pot, only I was the one cooking myself.
I turned the water up and accustomed myself to the temperature.
I turned it up more.
Until it was so hot the steam was billowing and my skin got red.
And I wanted to turn it up more.
I willed my arms to leave the warm goodness to reach for my shampoo.

In the mornings, I sometimes ponder odd things.
Like the amazing amount of toothpaste that makes it into my stomach even though I never swallow while I'm brushing.
And how I'm like a frog in a pot.
I guess I must swallow without thinking.
I won't tell you how I know how much toothpaste turns up there.

Oh wow.
My face wasn't ready for that warm goodness.

I'm going to be late...

I don't care.
But I kind of do.
What if my teacher makes fun of me when I come in?
It's the first day. No one makes fun on the first day when you are trying to find your way to new classes.
Some professors don't obey that rule.
Maybe I should get out.

I think I need to keep rinsing.
I hurried yesterday and there was still shampoo when I turned the water off.
I could hear it when I moved my head.
It made that soapy sound.
I hate that.
And it's a good excuse anyways.

How long have I been standing here swaying my head back and forth under the warm goodness?

Wisdom.
Taking a family finance class seems like wisdom to me.
Sometimes wise things depend on the situation.
A wise choice that comes at eight o'clock in the morning in the first trimester...
That choice is still being debated.

Someday the jury will get out of the shower.