Repeat

 

This is the true story of how one day, while taking a bath, the combination of the hot water and the many, many soap bubbles, washed away my rational thinking.  No longer could I analyze a situation and form an opinion.  It was as if I were suddenly lost in a sea of situations and options but had no clue as to what to do with them, which way to go or even which way to get back home from the bathtub.

The faucet kept dripping like a ticking clock, but I had no concept of time. The bubbles towered around me like frothy mountains, whispering nonsense and pop philosophy in fizzy little voices. One suggested I become a goat herder in Nepal. Another insisted I write a memoir in Morse code.

I tried to remember what day it was. What year it was. Who the President might be. But all I could picture was a rubber duck wearing sunglasses, staring at me like I was the weird one.

Then came the shampoo. I couldn’t recall how to open the bottle. Was I supposed to twist it? Squeeze it?  I stared at it so long I felt it might ask me for help. At that point, I began to question if maybe I had opened it... in a previous life.

Clearly, my rational brain had gone down the drain with the first rinse.