With suds now draping my body like decorations around a Christmas tree, I couldn’t help but tremble uncontrollably in terror. For the sight of what was happening right before my very eyes was enough to bring even the bravest of men to their knees.

EARLIER…

After every exercise session at home, I tend to take my time recovering before I hit the shower. Funny enough, this doesn’t negate the fact that my recovery time is almost always 3 times longer than the actual workout period. Exercise, right?

So in between this window of regaining control of my breathing, allowing my sweat glands to calm down, and relieving myself off any signs of light-headedness, I usually lie down with my phone and travel through the hyperspace known as YouTube.

However, tonight I noticed this was the latest I’ve ever completed my regime. Time was only about half an hour away from embracing the warmth of midnight. And honestly, I know within myself that I was supposed to exercise much earlier. But in my defense, I got sucked into a very good movie.

(It was my first time watching Jordan Peele’s ‘Get Out’ and I’ve got to say, it was truly a masterpiece. My favorite part was when Chris was being hypnotized by the mother and she said “SINKKK!” in this low, demonic tone.)

By the time I finished the movie, I convinced myself that more time was needed before committing myself to such a rigorous activity like exercise. I needed time to build up the mental fortitude for it all. Then again, I may have just been feeling lazy. Saturdays, right?

I gather my supplies to make tonight’s shower a smooth process. My only concern other than the rudely chilling water (which I’ve grown accustomed to) was the water pressure itself.

You see, the electric pump that runs water throughout the house is manually filled. It’s been this way for quite some time now. And for decent reasons I’ll choose not to discuss at this current time. So, in order to get a consistently strong flow and actually fill the water tank, the plug powering the device must be inserted.

Seems simple enough right? WRONG!

The location of the plug lies deep within the innards of my Aunty L’s room. And if you so happened to have read my ‘The Stakes Of Living With A Number-holic’ story, you’d know why I tend to avoid coming into contact with her after hours.

Creeping my way into the bathroom adjacent to her room, I meticulously placed my items down and proceeded to check the water pressure. I turn the “face bowl” (bathroom sink) on to the fullest, examining the fluid ounces as they diligently fought their way out of the faucet.

Water molecules pooled together smartly to convey to me a sense of unity. Their performance was just enough to convince me not to go for the plug. And since I was only taking a shower, I figured this would be enough to get the job done.

It’d be close, but I could make it. Besides, the very thought of waking up Aunty L seemed too exhausting, and my body had already maxed out in that department.

Discarding my garments freely, I enter the rectangular prism on a mission to once again regain a sense of purity. I was stained by the rigors of physicality, my body tainted and soiled by drops of perspiration.

This was no laughing matter people, this was war. I even opted to not play any music on my phone like I normally would during a shower. I didn’t want to risk the chance of going into full-on concert performance mood for the sake of time.

Hell, I didn’t even grant my thoughts permission to roam casually about between drops and drizzles of Tundra-like liquid. Indeed, both my body and mind fully understood that once this shower started it was go time!

Counting down the seconds like an official at a track meet, the turning of the controls was like the gun firing, alerting the runners that it was time to move. Immediately, I began lathering my face with my special facial soap. Targeting this area first made sense since I’d need to have all sense of visibility for this one.

Afterwards, I take hold of soap and towel and begin getting down to business. Studying the water, I notice its gradual weakening every 10 seconds. This resulted in me continuously inching my way closer underneath the shower head with each significant loss. Having to bend my head in all awkward directions to avoid a head-on shower-head collision, momentarily made me detest my height.

With suds now draping my body like decorations around a Christmas tree, I couldn’t help but tremble uncontrollably in terror. For the sight of what was happening right before my very eyes was enough to bring even the bravest of men to their knees.

The water had now went from from a feeble stream to mere droplets. “NO, not at a time like this, dammit!”, I uproared in disdain of the situation. Like seriously? This was when I was at my most vulnerable. I screamed silently for a good 30 seconds, knowing what was now required of me to do.

I exited the prism in all my sudsy glory, feeling like a half-washed vehicle. Quickly adorning my body in a drying-off towel, I miserably made my way to knock on Aunty L’s door. She awakes and answers expectantly to that of my whining cry.

“Don’t open the door; don’t see me like this! Just run the tank for me please”, I pleaded teary-eyed. What a humiliating defeat.

Exercise, am I right?

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