Spit Bath

I woke around 4 o’clock and couldn’t go back to sleep. I went to the bathroom (of course), flushed and started to wash my hands. Things started sputtering and spitting and I could hear the toilet going a little wacky.

I woke Herm because… why not? Snoozing away, all comfy and blissful, he looked like someone who should participate in this sputtering, spitting situation. He suggested that a water main had burst. We found the emergency number and called. We were immediately assured that a water main had indeed burst, and that the full force of the Department of Public Utilities was being brought to bear on the problem “as we spoke.” And you know that made me feel so much better. But no promises could be made. She would just “hate to promise anything.” And you know that didn’t make me feel better.


I have an appointment for a followup mammogram this morning. They found a little sumthin’ sumthin’ about six months ago. I had to go back for a pinpoint mammogram immediately, but they still weren’t quite “sure nuff.” So they did an ultrasound the same day and still weren’t satisfied. Anyway, I’d like to be clean… you know? And my hair was sticking out like a cat who’d been pulled backwards through the shrubs.


Herm told me to quickly take a spit bath in the sink before everyone in the free world woke up and wanted to flush and spit and sputter all at the same time. The man had a point, and that’s what I did. Technically a spit bath does not include washing your hair, but I did that too. It took forever for enough water to drizzle out to thoroughly rinse it.

Don’t worry, I’m clean. And that means something.


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