Scrub

The grogginess in my eyes clouds my sight as much as the lack of sleep clouds my judgement.

I get up. I move based on behavioral instinct.

I throw off. The wave of fabric rises, and crashes like a tsunami.

The blankets are gone. The air is cold. Temperature difference has been recognized.

Slight shivers run up my spine.

I roll over, rotating my body ninety degrees.

Legs on the edge of the bed. Feet on the floor.

Leaning over my lap, I stretch my back.

*Sigh*

"Time to get up."

I lumber off.

I open the door. Walk around the bend, into the next.

*Flick*

A hand lies over my brow. Shielding my eyes from the sudden brightness.

*Fffft* *Plop*

More textiles cover the floor. I sit.

The cold travels up my thighs. My quads tighten. Shivering intensifies.

Push. Relax. Stop. Push. Relax. Stop. Nod off.

*Rip* Disposable, Dissolvable, Squares. Layered. Folded. Wrapped. Rubbed. Drawn.

I get up. I turn. The turn a knob.

Gurgling commences. First together. Then the mesh creates bubbles once more turbulent.

Once a base is applied, lathered, and foams; the rinse commences.

The hands are clean. Now time for the rest of me.

I turn around. The curtain flutters. The metal rings.

These are all the sounds before the big clean.

The handle is grabbed. The metal's coldness travels up my arm.

Soon, this machination will shower me in warmth.

The walls are alive with sound. Pressure differences are recognized.

A hundred tiny waterfalls spring forth. Made a giant to miniature Niagara Falls.

Like beads of sand, they hit and roll of my body.

The drops of water take whatever forms of debris with them.

A bottle. Scented wonderfully with a mysterious potion. I pour it out.

Lathering onto an item with numerous folds and intertwining's, suds foamed.

I scrub.

I scrub.

I scrub.

I remove the debris with the oldest layer of skin.

That which is dead is taken away to make room for the next.

My skin breathes.

It breathes with life.

It breathes with energy.

It's bombarded by energy.

The kinetic energy of the water hitting and beading off my skin.

The thermal energy from the heat transferring from the water to me.

The potential energy that the water has when its above my head.

Before it falls.

It falls.

I scrub.

It falls.

I rinse.

It falls.

I turn.

The lever's back in its position.

I breathe...

The air is filled with moisture now.

The curtain is pulled back.

The temperature difference is felt. Warmer inside than outside.

Now things start to equal out.

I grab the towel off the wall.

It's clean. It's fresh. It's warm. It's still mostly dry.

Moistly dry?

I towel off.

I look in the mirror. I wipe off the steam. I look at myself.

"Time to get going."

I smile.