Epiphany in the shower

You must have heard the old adage that you travel to learn. In my case, that of the eternal student, that is most certainly true. And today I traveled and almost as if to order I had an Epiphany. You see, my idea of achieving Tao in the bath is to pour the bath and drop Waddle into it (Waddle is my bathtub duck – it’s yellow and it has a metal ring through its head for easy manipulation). After that, when the Lavender scent of the priceless oils that I use to cleanse my body has permeated my very being and my mind floats up and looks down upon my soaking self, I think I’m doing pretty good for a small-town boy. (you thought this was going to be about beer, right?)

Until today that is. Today the universe took a left turn and showed me a different way to look at the world. I had a shower to wash off the air miles. You don’t appreciate a shower until you step off the jetway and you feel like wax paper that’s been rolled through gravel. After that, you feel like a shower should be a basic human right for everybody (does anyone want to run for office on that platform?).

But the shower bit is only half of it. What you do in the shower is to be grateful for the ledge, for on that ledge you put a beer. Beer in the shower, if it sounds like the last guilty pleasure before the Rapture that’s because it probably will be. So I had myself a beer, more specifically the Sunday River Lager by the StoneCoast Brewery. Now, you have to be fair: beer in the shower, masked by the scent of orange [for technical purposes] and hair mousse is not doing the beer a big favor.


But you had to have been there (and if you are 5 feet 6 or thereabouts and have a full set of chromosomes, you would have been welcome to). The atmosphere, the rushing water, the absolute delight of sipping from a bottle of StoneCoast’s baby, few things are more wholesome and healing for the soul, and now I can actually vouch for that.

Drinking the Sunday River from the bottle deprived me of the ability to tell you anything about the color and texture. It tastes mildly bitter when it enters the mouth, followed by a dainty fruitiness which briefly walks onto the stage, takes a bow and walks back off. The beer doesn’t have many ambitions, it merely wants you to be its friend until you reach the bottom of the bottle. It proved to be a great companion when I mused about life, the universe and just about everything (Thank you, D.N.A.,(the writer, not the acid)).

Score yourself a beer, find yourself a shower, lock out the rest of the universe and indulge. You absolutely want to.