Although it is beyond late for me to be writing, especially considering I need to wake up early to do chores, I had to write this post. A thunderstorm started and I was still dirty and sweaty from the crazy heat of today. Of course, because I know what lightning and water do together, I ran to take my shower before the storm got too bad. As I was in there, I remembered one of my favorite lighting storm stories. It is from when I was in high school, probably my sophomore or junior year, and I had to take a shower in the morning.
It started like any other day, my alarm had been going off for an hour and mother had let the dogs loose on me twice. I was still in bed, unconscious. A crash of lightning woke me up. Surely, my mother was there, in my face, saying that I needed to get up and get ready.
“But I have to take a shower.” It was amazing that I even remembered this fact. Freshly woken Marcie is not the best Marcie to encounter.
“It’s storming! Skip it!” She spoke logic. Lightning and water go very well together and that is bad news for whatever mammal is stuck in between. I realize even more so now, after my severe and hazardous weather class, that lightning is a good weather occurrence to be afraid of.
“But I haven’t showered in two days.” Of course she made the face of any mother that wonders when exactly her child hit her head that hard (what teenage daughter doesn’t shower for two days on school days?). But she relented.
“Make sure you put a towel down.” She said, walking out of the room. I stumbled–and it was literally stumbling–out of bed and got in the shower.
My super intelligent and present mind remembered to put a towel down… and I put it down at my feet in the shower. So that I wouldn’t get electrocuted. I remember looking down at it and thinking “What in the world is this supposed to do?” But then thinking “My mom is smart and science-y so she’s right.” And moving on. I remember how soft that towel was, soaking with soap and water, in between my toes. It’s like when your hair is underwater and you run your fingers through it and it feels like silk. It was like that, but so much better (less tangles). I must have stood there for five minutes just wiggling my toes in the wet towel. The towel was covering the drain, so I was up to my ankles in water. It made the towel all the more soft.
Then my mom was banging on the door, yelling. We were running late. I was going to make her late. And my shower was too long. Did I know what a lightning storm was and what happens when electricity meets water? Also, she had to brush her teeth. So I just said “Yes,” Because I’m responsive in the morning, and let her in to brush her teeth. With her in the bathroom, I knew I wasn’t going to get away with wiggling my toes and standing under the shower head, so I decided to end the shower and get ready for school. I was sad to lose the plush wet towel feeling in my toes. I stepped out and my mom shook her head and put down a towel on the floor for my feet.
“I told you to put down a towel!”
“I did put down a towel!”
“In the shower, like you told me!” She was confused. Then she looked in the tub and the towel was in there. Soaked. She looked at me and back at the towel.
She laughed her ass off.
I was so confused, I left her laughing in the bathroom.
As we were driving to my high school, we sat in the car to have a talk. “Marcie, you know I didn’t mean put a towel down in the shower, right? What would that do?”
“I don’t know.” Code for: I’m actually sleeping on the way to school, please leave me alone. She knew. She didn’t care. She quizzed me on electricity.
She proceeded to laugh more and then gave me a science lesson between giggles.
A diploma and bachelor’s degree later, I am still taking showers during lightning storms. At least I left the towel outside the shower this time.