Too much of a good thing

Not often enough to breed un-remarkability, some events leave you jolted. And when they happen, you're staggering for a rubber grip. Some things, you expect to be free from alteration. Like the sexiness of Hugh is taken for Granted. Like remembering the Alphabet. The impact, when you are dislodged from your comfort couch is stupendous. It makes you... blog.
With a build-up like that, I owe you a good storey.
It begins of course, at the place I've been spending the last 4 months in- good ol' room, where I was passionately badmouthing the Egyptians for a practice they've diffused. Have no doubts, Mummy expletives were included. When I then got down to observing that blastid tradition; that most painful obligation to society- more famous as showering, I... I..er.. forgot...er...which knob was for hot water, and which one for cold! I might have worn a left shoe on the right foot and vice versa. I might have not been able to tell the difference between elastic and inelastic collision. I might have mistaken a Lamb of God song for Akon's. But THIS, dear reader, is different. Grudgingly notwithstanding, I have been religious in bathing daily. For years!
I could tell you how much the knobs should each be rotated to get a cozy lukewarm. In degrees AND radians, goddammit. But that day, that cursed day, the basic distinction was forgot. How. HOW.

Labels: dudeHOW, Life gyaan