I’ve taken, lately, to brushing my teeth in the shower. I’ll reach out of my steamy coccoon just long enough to damply grab my tooth brush and a dollop of toothpaste, and then re-seal myself within my manufactured rainforest. Then, I’ll look at myself in the mirror I use for shaving (also in the shower) and let any foam that escapes my mouth drizzle down my chin and on to my body, ’cause hey, I’m in the shower, who cares? I’ve also been bringing my cell phone in with me (lest my country calls upon me for immediate assistance), to perch precariously in the sliver of space between my sink and stacked magazines where reception is somewhat decent.

It’s pretty obvious, I think to everyone, that I’ll be living in the shower full time within the next six months. At first I thought, “Well that’s silly, my clothes will get all wet;” but, then realized how ridiculous that is, as I’ll have since sold all my clothes to pay the water bill, and I’ll be quite naked indeed.

I vaguely recall a Seinfeld episode where Kramer attempted something similar. Where he failed, I shall persevere… It’s true what they say, you know, art does imitate life.