This prospect reminds me of a funny story that happened to me during the time after Sandy. I blogged about it then, so I'll repeat it now. I guarantee you'll laugh or at least smile.
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Like most Long Islanders, I don't have electricity. Which means no heat and no hot water. It was fun and novel for 2-3 days, then the thrill wore off and life got hard. The temperature in my house is slowly descending; it's now in the mid-50's. Of course the refrigerator stopped working and everything in it is spoiled.
The worst thing, I find, is not having hot water. Not having a shower for a week means you wake up feeling grungy and there's no way to improve that. Your hair sticks out sideways; your skin feels icky; and there's not enough cologne or perfume to mask your natural scent.
I'm used to a routine of taking a hot shower every morning. Not being able to do that started to affect me emotionally. I was depressed at sliding out of a cold bed, into cold air, for an inadequate sponge-bath with cold water.
Fortunately, with the help of a fuzzy friend, that changed an hour ago. Alerted by my good pal, I learned the local YMCA just opened up and is offering free hot showers to anyone in the community. I rushed over and... OH MY GOD!!
Seriously, oh my God! I'm human again! I took a shower three times the length of normal, with blistering hot water. I scrubbed half of my skin off and now I'm lobster-red. My skin is terribly painful from the scrubbing but, damn it, I wasn't going to stop washing. Luckily, I was girly enough to bring lotion to soothe my burning skin after the shower.
Here's the funny part. In the midst of my personal little tragedy, there is some comedy.
I was poised to take my long-desired shower, in a communal shower-room surrounded by nine other naked men in very close proximity. I pulled off my pants and realized I was wearing pink panties. Okay, I could slide them off with my pants and no one was the wiser. Then I pulled off my socks and realized, oops!, I have ten toes with bright red nail-polish on them. No way to conceal those in the shower. Now, you know -- there was never any doubt about my going into the shower; the only issue was how nine male strangers would react to the sight. I steeled myself emotionally and decided to endure any abuse.
Happily, nobody said anything. I'm sure several saw the sparkling toesies but were too flummoxed to vocalize their thoughts. Just as well, because I wasn't going to accept any crap in my pursuit of the Holy Grail of hot water.
Have you ever walked into a room of strangers knowing all eyes are on you?