Climb for Hospice

Showering and I are quite close friends, and I enjoy the relationship that I have with hot water, soap and whatever form of poufy soap-application instrument is at hand in said shower. Bathing and I are also in a fantastic relationship, and I can honestly say that I’ve been in love with bathing for many, many years. I’m not ashamed to admit that to you.

It’s difficult for me when I have days when I’m not spending time with showering and/or bathing. I have visceral reactions when the poufy soap-application instrument and I don’t spend an adequate amount of time together. Even if shampoo and I take a break from each other every so often, I know that poufy soap-application instrument will be there for me. Reliable pouf – I adore you so. You make me happy, and you make me feel fantastic when you help transform me from forest-rolled sasquatch into shiny, squeaky clean girl.

I also love dental floss, toilet paper, Q-Tips, deodorant, and nail clippers. We all live together under one roof, and we all get along really well. We never fight (although sometimes dental floss really pisses me off). The reciprocal relationship I have with hygiene supplies brings me so very much joy. I rescue it from the supermarket shelves, and it returns the favour by being totally awesome. I like our relationship. I plan to continue it for many years to come.

My name is Robyn, and I’m a proud hygiene polygamist.

I look out for hygiene – I’ve got its back. It’s my job to ensure that it is always safely out of harm’s way, and far from its mortal enemy: camping. I’ve been quite successful in this undertaking, and I feel that I’ve done my best to keep the soft, precious, important hygiene away from the evil ruinous mass that is camping.

But there have been times when I have failed. When I have strayed, and brought the wrath of camping upon the unsuspecting hygiene. It’s a gruesome fight.

I… I don’t want to talk about it. Although I will say one thing: crying just makes camping stronger – it laughingly feeds off the tears of the broken, shattered hygiene, as it lay writhing on the ground, desperate to be whole again.

F*cking camping.

Needless to say, I know I’ve got a fight on my hands soon. One where I know that hygiene will be completely obliterated, and camping will dance victorious on the grave of clean. Knowing this, I still must go. I am preparing myself to lose this battle, and it pains me. Oh, it wounds me deeply!

However, I know the genocidal campaign won’t last forever – there will be an end to this tragedy. But the seven days that it will take for this war to play itself out will be ugly. And those that come behind me will be able to watch the devastation, and follow the progress of this destruction, as one follows the path of a snail.

Oh Seven Days on Kili, how I fear thee!

But oh, 45-minute shower on Day Eight how I anticipate our alliance! It will be you that will take on the Herculean task of destroying the loathsome camping once and for all! And although I may be haunted by the memories, I know, Day Eight Shower, that my time with you will help heal those wounds.

*places hands over heart*

Day Eight Shower… You complete me.

It’s going to be a good day, indeed.