Monday, April 15, 2013
Last night, I had a spiritual revelation of sorts. I had just finished shaving (my face) and was getting ready to hop in the shower. I eagerly turned on the water, but after about five seconds or so, I estimated that the temperature had only risen from ~50 degrees at the start to ~70 degrees, and it plateaued there. I was extremely discouraged that all the work I had put into successfully taking a shower had gone to waste, so I trekked 20 feet back to my dorm room to try and kill time for 20 minutes while waiting for the water to heat up.
Twenty minutes later, I marched straight into the bathroom and authoritatively turned on the showerhead. Much to my dismay, the water temperature was still a bone chilling 70 degrees. This time, though, I wasn't just gonna let this water be the boss of me. I was going to own the shower and nothing was going to stop me from scrub-a-dub-dubbing.
As I attempted to boldly glee as the frigid water trickled down my back, I came to an amazing realization. I realized that if I wanted to keep warm, I should use the absolute least amount of water possible. So, after dousing myself for a good 60 seconds, I turned the shower completely off and proceeded to wash my head, shoulders, knees and toes. I was able to get them pretty clean... I feel like the increased friction due to the relative lack of water made for a more effective cleansing method, as I had the ability to apply more force towards unearthing the unwanted grime that covered my body due to the higher friction coefficient k of slightly moist skin as opposed to wet skin.
After I was done evacuating the unwanted contaminants nested upon my epidermis, I proceeded to turn the water back on and wash everything off. The whole washing off process probably took around 90 seconds, as I needed to get the shampoo off my hair and get the soap off everywhere else. The soap was deeply nested in my skin and didn't just slide off by itself... further evidence that when it comes to scrubbing, a little lubrication goes a long way.
Soon, I was fresher than Bel-Air, and I only had the water on for around 2-3 minutes.
People always say that the trick to reducing water usage is to take short showers with low-flow showerheads. While there is definitely truth to this statement, the shower is more than just a cleaning cubicle. Some of life's greatest awakenings occur in this sacred place. With my newly embraced shower-taking method, I can use minimal water in a slippery, soapy silence, and shine brighter than the sun with the knowledge that somewhere, some salmon is smiling.