Hot, like a bell pepper

“Doctor Doctor Master Albright, my name is—”
“Please, please, my friends call me Doctor Master Albright.” Albright interrupted.
“Doctor Master—”
“It’s actually Doctor Doctor Master.”
“But you just said—”
“I was making conversation. I was trying to be friendly, but, just so you’re sure, you’re not my friend.” Albright patiently explained, as if talking to a slow person.

— Excerpt from my novel

If movies are a resource for real life, all minorities are either funny or will die soon (or both), jerks always get what’s coming to them, and everyone sings in the shower. Since I consider myself a jerk ((I kick puppies: get used to it.)) and I’ve yet to have misfortune plague my every step, we can safely assume movies don’t give us a direct insight into real life. But what about singing in the shower? Does everyone do that?

I was thinking about that in the shower today. I think about a lot of things in the shower. The bathroom in general, really. I find the quiet to be very stimulating for my thinking. It’s half the reason I spend so long in the bathroom in the first place. ((Go ahead, guess the other reason.)) I think to myself. When it’s something that sounds good, I talk to myself. And when I need a dialogue, I answer myself. I enjoy my point of view on most things and look forward to times when I can express it to myself. I think and talk, but I never sing. At least not while I’m in the shower.

I realized today, though, that I DO sing. ((Thus defeating my whole thesis)) I just wait until after the shower. I don’t need running water to interfere with the acoustics! I want to enjoy my voice, damn it! ((If you want to imagine my voice, I sound somewhere between Kermit the Frog and a fire alarm, but with growls interspersed.)) So I don’t sing in the shower… I sing immediately afterward.

What does this have to do with anything? Nothing. I’m just glad I can sing now. I’ve experienced showers with cold water three times this year: for weeks at a time. You just don’t appreciate hot water until it’s gone. It’s kinda like your car’s brakes or your backup parachute. ((Note to self: make list of things you don’t appreciate until they’re gone.))

Today I’m thankful for… heat.

Lappy Update: He says he shipped it via FedEx today. The tracking number to come tomorrow. Should I feel joy? Because I do.

“Doctor Doctor Master Albright, my name is—” “Please, please, my friends call me Doctor Master Albright.” Albright interrupted. “Doctor Master—” “It’s actually Doctor Doctor Master.” “But you just said—” “I was making conversation. I was trying to be friendly, but, just so you’re sure, you’re not my friend.” Albright patiently explained, as if talking to…