I just spent a good 28 minutes sitting on the floor of the shower. I just sat. The water pelted me in the face, but sitting there, on the floor of the shower, just seemed like the right thing to do. I heard a conversation on the radio about this once. A man thought it bizarre when he walked in on his wife doing just this. Sitting in the tub with the shower running.
But the thought of actually standing, on my legs, and showering, was exhausting.
It's been a turbulent week. I really just wanted to use "turbulent" in a sentence, but that mostly explains it. I spent a lot of time in tears this week, which is not only bad for my macho bravado, but it's also not very pretty. The swollen eyes and snot, and all. My face turns red, I sweat. It's unpleasant. All around.
Everyone suffers when I do because I am of the thinking that the world revolves around me. Of course that's not entirely true, but you want the world to revolve around you when life is exhausting.
I used to be too moody for my own good. (Hi Mom! Dad! Every guy I dated circa before-I-realized-that's-really-goddamn-annoying!) But today I'd argue that I'm really rather pleasant. And happy. And I'd tell you life's too short to bitch about it, right before I go and bitch about life.
I realize everyone needs to take time to stop and smell the roses, but I also believe people need to take a little time to sit on the floor of the shower. And have a pity party there, on that floor. Alone. Don't invite anyone to your pity party. Cry if you want to, and pretend life isn't fair. Eventually, of course, you need to stand up and wash your hair and shave your legs, but for that moment, just pout.
You'll feel better.