This evening I need to address a phenomenon that irks the innermost part of my soul. It incites rage violent enough to motivate the kicking of puppies and other similar assorted adorable things. It's completely unavoidable, and what's worse is that it seems to easy to combat but every attempt brings certain failure. What phenomenon is this? The event in which the conditioner ALWAYS runs out before the shampoo. WHY?!
Agreed? Completely unavoidable. I've had hair for almost 22 years now. (I was pretty much bald till I was 3. My mom had to scotch tape a bow to my head so people would know I was a girl. I spent the first three years of my life looking like a Christmas gift.) No matter how many times I try, the conditioner runs out before the shampoo does. It can't be stopped. But it MUST be stopped. This is a vicious injustice. I've tried everything. I ration the conditioner as if it were fuel in 1942. I splurge on shampoo to try and even things out. I am an expert at the putting water in the conditioner bottle and shaking it like crazy to get every last drop out. It has never worked. I have never run out of both products at the same time. Not once. I am convinced that the tooth fairy has moved from exchanging money for teeth to sneaking into bathrooms and siphoning conditioner out of the bottle. I have half a mind to booby trap my shower and catch the little slore in action. I have beef with the tooth fairy. My brother and I must have been contracted by two different tooth fairies. My teeth gathered a dollar per piece on average. My brother received a minimum of three dollars for each tooth, and I distinctly remember his right bicuspid fetching five whole dollars. We are 3 years and 7 months apart, and being an economics major, I know for absolute fact that the inflation rate in the mid-90s was not between 300 and 500 percent. I'm pretty sure my brother's tooth fairy was Barack Obama. It was very difficult for me to watch him buy 3-5 times the candy I could buy and even harder to watch him toothlessly chomp away at whatever would rot the next tooth and bring in another outrageously high tooth subsidy. A politics lesson at an early age. And you wonder why I vote red.
Back to the conditioner. As my own silent protest, I like to quit using the shampoo when the conditioner runs out and refuse to buy the same brand again. I'm not one to fall to big brother shampoo company's scheme to get us to buy another round of S&C. I know they know it's a problem. But do they make the bottles two different sizes to compensate? Absolutely not, because they're supercalifragilisticexpialiDOUCHES. As a sad little consequence of my protest, I have 18 bottles of shampoo, 1/3 full sitting in my bathroom. What am I supposed to do now?! Wash the dishes? My plates could use some strength, moisture and shine. And I'm sure that the silverware wouldn't mind smelling like Redken. I checked, and consignment stores do carry shampoo. eBay? I can't be the only one with this problem. If only I could find someone with the opposite problem: a shampoo overuser. Now that would be something. Worthy of being the subject of a child's nursery rhyme. Or a Lifetime Network Original Movie.
Bottom line, there has got to be a solution. I'll catch that deviant tooth fairy eventually, but until then, please keep all puppies away from my right foot.
Moving on.
I'm 24, I live on my own, and as such I exercise rights that I did not have when living at home with my parents. These include, but are not limited to: jumping on the bed whenever I want, eating cookies for breakfast, sitting too close to the TV, and most of all -- not making my bed every morning. I see no point in it. I am going to sleep in it the next night, so why bother? It takes quite a bit of very tactical tossing and turning to get my covers twisted into the position that satisfies me. I owe it to myself to not make extra work for myself every night by starting the tangling process all over again. To this, my dad would reply: "You wipe your butt every day, but you're going to poop again, so make your bed." I can't tell you how many times I have heard him say this. First of all Dad, EW. Second, these are two completely different things. It's like comparing apples and extended cab diesel pickup trucks.
My bed does not itch if I don't make it. Nor does it start to develop unpleasant odor, or leave streaks in my underwear. See, completely different things.
And that is why I do not make my bed.
