(as opposed to flailing about in a puddle with a bootle of Lynx)
This year, I’ve been having showers because those are what I’ve had in halls; they’re quick, easy and screw with your knees because when you have a shower after sports to wash off the sweat, you’re still standing on those knees you just tore to shreds. But at home, there is a bath, and I’m realising the totally different mindset that goes into each form of loofah-wielding.
Baths are fundamentally more relaxing; you’re lying surrounded by water, as opposed to being both standing, and buffeted by a constant stream of water. Also, individual droplets launched from a showerhead have the potential to be wildly different in size and speed, and so fall on the skin in different, novel ways, as opposed to the universal stillness of a bath. This extends to the preparation of these things: baths require putting on in advance, and a gentle manipulation of the taps to produce a bath that’s not too hot nor too cold; meanwhile showers require walking to the shower and turning a knob, which is far easier.
It’s strange, therefore, that they seem to have the opposite effects on me: baths energise and refresh me, while showers make me tired, and wanting a nap. Perhaps it’s the fact that I’ve always had baths in afternoons and evenings, before doing work, and so I had to be motivated and energised by a bath, and I’ve sort of reverse-engineered the feeling generated by the bath itself. Conversely, I’ve only really had showers this year after sports, and before crashing out for twelve hours, generating the opposite feeling.
Either way, they make my hair look like a series of skinny, flailing devilocks, which is never a good look. And I care so much about how my hair looks that I\ll probably never bathe again.