THAT FUNKY SMELL

The running joke amongst my friends and colleagues is that I have not showered in three weeks.  The punchline is, however, that this is the absolute truth.  Since the infamous gas explosions, I have, indeed NOT showered (in the 21st century traditional "stand under jets of hot water for ten minutes" way).

(Steamy makeshift bath!)

On the other hand, I have been enjoying hot baths so well-prepped that the mirrors steam up in my cold bathroom.  I have improvised steaming showers with plastic storage containers and red Solo cups (hey, they're not just for drinking anymore).  I invested in new washcloths and have used so much shower and bath gel that I probably should buy stock in Bath and Bodyworks.

Yes, I have mastered the fine art of juggling the following means to heat up water: microwave, semi-operational free hot plate, coffee maker (with water only), and an electric tea kettle.  Coordinating all of these things at the same time, I can have a hot bath or hot makeshift shower ready in thirty minutes.

People scoff at my ingenuity.  They tell me things like, "Just shower at the Y.  Shower in the women's locker room at work.  Shower at my house!"  But this requires planning, toiletries, towels, clothing, and a satchel of important things, like make-up and hair dryer.  To me, the amount of time I'd invest in the prep and execution is well-beyond my half-hour of entertainment when I have a hot bath on my mind and feel like playing a live-action version of Musical Water Bowls.

Apparently, actually showering is my biggest inconvenience at the moment.

Anyway, back to my friends and colleagues.  At first this whole hot water thing was frightening.  Then I was in denial.  Then I got worried.  Then I tried to find solutions.  Now I am just plain old pissed off.  Oh, sure, it's still funny when my friend gives me an air freshener just so it's safe to hang out with me.  It's still thoughtfully annoying when the custodian keeps telling me there are women's showers available for teachers.  It's still very sweet when people offer up their showers so I can recall what running hot water feels like.

I'm getting by, but I'm also getting disheartened ever so slightly.

I'm at work this morning when I hear the lockers outside in the hallway all being systematically opened.  It's too early for the students to be in the hallway, and I don't believe a teacher would be standing in the hallway kicking the metal doors, so I pop my head out.  The assistant principal is in the hallway with the head custodian.  They have about two dozen lockers wide open and are going from one to the other, inspecting each, then slamming doors closed again.

"What are you doing?" I ask.

The vice principal tries to brush me off then finally admits they're searching for something.  My God, I think, what can it be?  Is it contraband?  Something volatile?  Body parts?  

 Seeing my odd expression, he finally relents.  "The superintendent walked by this morning and said he smelled something funky coming out of these lockers, but we don't see anything."

"That smell would be me," I respond.

Hey, if I'm going to be the brunt of jokes, I might as well get in my own punchlines now and then.

P.S. I really am clean, so I don't need any more washcloths, air fresheners, or odor-neutralizing sprays.  Thank you, though, and I mean that from the bottom of my smelly little heart.