Welcome to our Ool

You may note that there is no P in it.

But do not join me in the Pshower at our Ool. Not if you are not a fan of pee.

I love my feet. They get me from place to place and they are just perfect. They are enormous. And they smell very, very bad. But that is the fault of my Chuck Taylors and my Vibrams and my hatred of socks. It is not their fault at all. I take care of them. They are the only feet I have.

I have never really been what you would call an Athlete. And yet I have had Athelete’s Foot a billion times. Just lucky, I guess. You might know where this is going.

I pee in the shower. Not at home. Because my shower is clean and fungus free. MQD pees in the shower. So I know his feet are clean. But in public showers, I pee. Judge me. I don’t mind. Smell my feet while you’re at it.

I have not exactly told Emily that I pee in the shower. And until today it did not pose a problem. It has been one of the many lies by omission of which I am guilty.

Emily takes a shower at the pool. The water pressure kind of stinks. It takes forever for her to get the shampoo out of her hair so today I joined her. In the shower at the pool it might as well have a sign “C’mon in and shower, get some Athlete’s Foot.” Not specifically at our pool, just pools in general. Showers, in the steamy outdoors, cleaned by underpaid teenagers.

So, I have set the scene well enough. At the pool. In the shower. In the morning.

“Mom, it is so weird, this shower smells like coffee.”

“Yeah, that is weird, Em. Real, real weird.”