It's you, and it's May.
Water, water, everywhere: droplets, gushes, drips, disappearing fleetingly into the little black holes on the floor.
When you are not struggling to hold the cap of the shampoo bottle open, gleefully blowing bubbles from the soap dispenser, or nonchalantly making tiny tidal waves with your toes – letting the water run its course down your body, trickling and marking their brief journey on your skin – you pretty much surrender yourself to the fascinating and subtle workings of your subconscious mind.
Maybe he will again give me that fifty-ringgit question argh when should I go watch the movie this weekend or the next I had a secret meeting in the basement of my brain I think I want nasi lemak for dinner later will need to text them for this request should I wait or just pick New Zealand oh need to surf on to their blogs later cannot believe they are like 27 or 29 and I am like-
I cannot remember.
Good lord, I do not know of anyone else who has to perform a quick mental calculation to determine or be reminded of his or her age (while in the shower, no less).
Maybe I need some Special K.