what could be more stunning in its specificity of purpose, of its determined nature and focused bones on the task at hand? what, i ask you?
there i was, naked; truly naked, not just laying-down-on-the-bed-looking-inviting naked. full light in our tiny bathroom, bleach tile cleaner in hand, ready to do what needs to be done in order to fully clean our mildewed, rectangular phone box shower.
i open the shower door and begin spraying wildly, hoping that somehow my strong conviction against bleach in homes will be forgiven by the eco-friendly goddesses around me; also hoping that the goddamn stuff works because nothing else has. immediately i realize that the window that looks out over our neighbors' driveway must be opened for ventilation; my eyes are starting to water.
i rush to the window and try to push it open with one hand, realizing that i am nekkid but also grateful that my gay neighbors won't mind if they glimpse me, sprawled and jangly, trying to give myself some fresh air. at least i think they won't mind. maybe they will mind. shit. get it open, get it open, get it open--there, fresh air.
ha! fresh air! hahahahaha! it's still 100 degrees outside, so "fresh" isn't exactly accurate. opening the window feels like opening the oven door to check on some brownies.
but still, i need something other than bleach-air; heck, i need something for my eyes.
"alex?" i yell out, door closed.
"yeah?"
"can you get me some goggles, please?"
i hear rustling, walking, cabinet being opened. i hear him approaching the door--and then the handle turning--and then i thrust my hand out to grab my swimming goggles, because no one, no one should look at me right now. i am too stunning to behold.
but wait, i thought i was--until i put on the goggles. then, and only then, do i truly feel that i have reached the apex of my adulthood thus far. there is no other point in my life where i have felt more like an older person than when i glimpse myself in the mirror: bare, stomach swollen from the recently eaten nachos, dirty hair up in clumps around the band around my head. . . of all that is holy and true in this world, it was at this moment that i finally knew that i have grown up.
and then, kneeling down in the shower, scrubbing hard at the stains while my belly and arms jiggle along with the sound of the brush; changing positions and being vaguely aware that my nether regions are mixing in with the bleach fumes, wondering what kind of damage can be done to my special purpose ("vulva? hang in there, lady..."); then marveling at the fact that hey, this poison stuff really does work! man oh man, i've been trying to make things happen with baking soda and vinegar and meyer's clean day and method, but at this moment, all of those do-gooders can go fuck themselves.
me and bleach! together! a match made in bathroom heaven!
there is nothing more real than what just happened in there, people. THAT is life; life on all fours, life that demands your grab the brush with both hands and thrust your way around the tile. life well-worked for, life well-lived. except for the bleach-poison that i've just inhaled.
all this, the gloriousness that is me, reveling in my beauty and the new sexy clean walls of my shower; and when my daughter asks to see what i claim is a very clean space, she peeks her head in and claims, "it doesn't look that clean to me."
i'm putting my goggles back on, just so i don't have to look at her for the rest of the night.
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