Sam thinks it is disgusting if I don't shower for a day. He thinks you should shower every day, no matter what. No questions.
Me? Not so much. If I don't have anything to do, I don't see why a shower is necessary. I'm usually sitting still staring at my computer screen.
Sam counts up the days and if it gets to two, he gets particularly snarky. He positively jumps up and down on the spot. It's adorable.
Still, it's good, I could end up a barefoot, pot smoking hermit, with a beard down to here, if left to my own devices. There is that risk.
He, he he. It makes me laugh. Calm down, there are people in the world who don't have access to fresh water. Settle down. I don't stink.
I reckon two days is about my maximum, though. After that, I kind of feel it. You know. I don't know. I probably feel the 21st century angst on my back, to be honest. A hundred years of advertising. But I feel something, my still small voice propels me towards the wash house. Sticky in the crutch? I don't know. Something.
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