Thankfulness...

I’m a simple guy. I’m thankful for simple things. One of these things is showers. A shower is my version of a massage; it’s one of the few times in a day when I can just relax and let all of the pain and aches from the day drip off my back. I turn the water up really hot so the steam gets inside my lungs, and once that happens, I’m beginning to fall asleep. It’s wonderfully soothing….

Of course, once I get in the shower, I don’t want to get out. It’s a welcome break from life, but I know that I’ll have to get out eventually. That’s just the way it is I suppose. Eventually, I’ll start guessing that it’s, what? 10:30? 11? The voice inside my head will start telling me: “You should get out of the shower and go to bed.” Then the other voice inside my head will say: “You can spare five more minutes.” The whispered battle of the two voices rages for at least ten minutes.

Once I’ve decided to listen to the first voice, and decide to get to bed, a new challenge arises. Suddenly I become acutely aware of the environment around me; specifically, I gain an intrinsic knowledge of hot and cold. I know that I have to get to bed. Yet, I also know that I don’t want to leave the warmth of the water and step into the freezing air. I spend (at least) another 10 minutes strategizing; determining the optimum way to retain warmth and comfort. I’m a mathematical type of person, so I consider as many variables as possible, and eventually, my complete attention shifts to a towel.

I get ready. I place my left hand on the shower control knob and my right hand on the edge of the shower curtain. I visualize my next movements as well as the extreme comfort that will soon be mine once I’m wrapped in the towel.

I take a breath.

3-2-1, GO! In an incredibly graceful and cohesive move, the shower is turned off, the curtain opened, and the towel wrapped around my dripping body. I smile. My extensive and thorough planning worked!

Except there was one problem. I felt cold. Terribly cold. The air began to curl around my body, gripping me with it’s icy fingers.

Then I realized my dreadful mistake. Despite my extensive considerations, I had forgotten one variable: I was not the only person who took a shower tonight! Oh the inconvenient truth! The towel was wetter than I was! My brother took a shower less than an hour ago!

I didn’t plan my next moves. I knew what I needed to do. I searched like a madman for a dry towel, looking everywhere in the bathroom for something to save me from the icy cold of the bathroom air. My search was useless.

Finally, I stopped searching and stared at myself in the bathroom mirror. I sighed. Twice. I took one more look around the bathroom, and my eyes came to rest on the pile of clean clothes that I was planning to change into once I was dry. I had no choice. My clothes became my towel, forcing me to take the short trip from the bathroom to my room bare. What else could possibly go wrong?

In this season of thanksgiving, I must say that I am extremely thankful for DRY towels. Yes, it is a simple thing among the many things that I am thankful for, but after this incident, dry towels hold a special place in my heart.