- Bathroom Musings -
(Until It Sleeps - Metallica)
For the most part, I don't give a lot of thought to the fact that I have a very, very good sense of smell. There are a variety of reasons why this might be the case, but it's not something I tend to dwell on; I'm simply grateful.
There are, however, moments where it's a source of some tension. Take tonight, for example: I'm standing in my bathroom, casually shaving my face and head, and between one rinse of the razor and the next, I smell something very -not- my shaving cream. Not quite sure what it is, so I keep shaving, and in another few strokes of the razor, the smell has grown stronger, and I realize with some alarm that it's blood that I'm smelling. Given the activity that I'm currently engaged in, logic would dictate that it was most likely MY blood I was smelling.
Sure enough, I look down in the sink, and some of the shaving cream that I've rinsed off of my face is red. Now, I've cut myself shaving before, but I typically know when I do it, and I can't actually see myself actively bleeding at the moment. I look over my face carefully:
- Still got both lips.
- Nose looks good.
- Both ears are there.
So where's all the blood coming from? I haven't even started on my head yet!
And it's at this point that I have the internal conversation with myself that is roughly, "I could call Kim up here, and there would be mockery. But there's a lot of blood in my sink now. Maybe I should call Kim up here. Or maybe I should just keep shaving. When I fall over from blood-loss, Kim'll come running anyway, and by then, I won't be able to hear the mockery..."
So I kept shaving.
Never did find out where I'd cut myself though, which is...sort of worrisome.
For the most part, I don't give a lot of thought to the fact that I have a very, very good sense of smell. There are a variety of reasons why this might be the case, but it's not something I tend to dwell on; I'm simply grateful.
There are, however, moments where it's a source of some tension. Take tonight, for example: I'm standing in my bathroom, casually shaving my face and head, and between one rinse of the razor and the next, I smell something very -not- my shaving cream. Not quite sure what it is, so I keep shaving, and in another few strokes of the razor, the smell has grown stronger, and I realize with some alarm that it's blood that I'm smelling. Given the activity that I'm currently engaged in, logic would dictate that it was most likely MY blood I was smelling.
Sure enough, I look down in the sink, and some of the shaving cream that I've rinsed off of my face is red. Now, I've cut myself shaving before, but I typically know when I do it, and I can't actually see myself actively bleeding at the moment. I look over my face carefully:
- Still got both lips.
- Nose looks good.
- Both ears are there.
So where's all the blood coming from? I haven't even started on my head yet!
And it's at this point that I have the internal conversation with myself that is roughly, "I could call Kim up here, and there would be mockery. But there's a lot of blood in my sink now. Maybe I should call Kim up here. Or maybe I should just keep shaving. When I fall over from blood-loss, Kim'll come running anyway, and by then, I won't be able to hear the mockery..."
So I kept shaving.
Never did find out where I'd cut myself though, which is...sort of worrisome.
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