(Kruiser’s Permanote Description: This column is intended to be a lighthearted, short-form way to frequently connect with our cherished VIP readers. Sometimes it will be serious. Sometimes it will be fun. Sometimes it will be a cornucopia of intellectual curiosities and fascinations. OK, maybe not so much the last one. Anyway, as this is a departure for me, I’m including this explanation at the top of each post for a while. Also, non-subscribers can see the first couple of paragraphs so I am in desperate need of filler until we get to the private stuff (subscribe here). Please remember that there is a standing invitation to ask me anything in the comments. Once in a while, I’ll answer some of them.)
A little over five years ago, I wrote a post about some “experts” questioning whether we really needed to be showering every day. My editor Paula wisely often questions many of my personal and professional choices, and she was quick to hit me with some variation on, “You’ve got to be kidding me,” over this one.
It’s a subject I’m passionate about, so I went ahead with it.
This was back before Townhall Media acquired PJ Media, and our traffic-hustling practices were a lot different then. It was also before Matt Drudge lost his mind and “Drudge hits” were an almost instant traffic boon. Within about an hour of my shower skepticism hitting the internet forever, Drudge grabbed it and yet another weird idea of mine was validated. Here was my setup for that post:
I live alone, spending most of my days writing and blogging and I very rarely have to interact with other people. After my daughter went to college and I was back in my writer hermit mode, I began wondering if there was a point to a daily shower. Even at “quick guy shower” length one is wasting precious time that could be spent with Netflix, after all. Absent the need to make other people happy, was there any sound reasoning for wasting water like that?
Five years later, I’m more annoyed than ever about the need to shower and dry off.
Forget hover cars, I want a quick car wash setup for my body. Something I just walk through while it soaps, scrubs, rinses, then blasts me with an all-over body dryer. And I want it to take no more than 120 seconds.
Toweling off after a shower has been particularly irritating to me lately. I do it so quickly it seems as if I hate the towel. Even going at that pace, I feel like it’s time I’ll wish I had spent better when I reach my final days. My house has great air conditioning, so I don’t sweat when I’m toweling off. Lately, however, I swear that parts of my body are re-moistening after I’ve dried them. I want to light the towel on fire then.
I will continue to subject myself to the tyranny of grooming and frequent showers because I have to be on camera a few times a week and my cat starts looking at me funny if I get a little ripe. I don’t need him trying to eat my face before I die.
And since none of this is for me, an occasional “Thank you, Kruiser,” from the people who are the true beneficiaries of my hygiene slavery would be nice.
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