I am in Costa Rica once again, staying with my dear friend Mary and her family. I am still in my PJs, farting around on the internet, looking for things to do for the week I am here. This afternoon Mary and I and her son Franco are headed to the Pacific Coast for a couple of days to sit in the sun, read, watch the waves. I just asked Mary what time I should be packed and ready to leave. Somehow that prompted the following conversation:
Mary: "Mer, do you need to take a shower?"
Mer: "No, I'll just go gross since we are going to the beach."
Mary: "What?! You haven't showered since leaving Oakland?"
Mer: "Nope. But we will be at the beach so I don't need to shower."
Mary: "Are you kidding me?!" (motioning me to follow her into the bathroom) "That's gross! Get in the shower! I don't want you reeking up the car!"
Mer: "I don't stink (Mer smells armpit). Seriously, I will shower tonight after the beach."
Mary: (Pointing at the shower, determined mother expression, using a stearn voice) "Marie, get in the shower."
Mer: (laughing) "Are you trying to mother-force me into taking a shower?"
Mary: (throwing hands up in the air) "Suite yourself. You're just like my dad! But here in Costa Rica we take at least one shower a day. At LEAST!" (laughing down the stairs away from me as I shouted after her, promising to wash my face and brush my teeth!).
Apparently, I am a stubborn ol' dirty bachelor. And I am not going to take a shower before we go to the beach. And it's been a very long time since I was chastised about my personal hygiene.
True story. I am so easily amused by the mundane.