"It's time, Rob."
"I don't know. Maybe a little longer?"
"No, you've given it more than enough time, it's not getting better."
The grubby guy in the mirror is right. I wish he were talking about a shower. He needs one of those. I do too. "How about a shower?" I suggest, anything to get away from this other topic.
He shrugs. "Why not, you'll need one anyway."
He's just like me, he refuses to give up. Who knew that a reflection could be so persistent? I turn off the light. That'll teach him.
It' doesn't work. "That doesn't work," he reflects, "I'm still here, and like your problems, I don't just go away when you turn off the light and start a shower."
If only--"OW!" I've kicked the toilet. If only the dark weren't so…well, obscuring?
"I told you: Still here."
I don't know what that means, the toilet wasn't a problem until I kicked it. Now three of my toes are twisted and throbbing. Hey, that would be a great name for a band, "What about twisted and throbbing?"
"You're not going to do that in the shower are you?"
"No!" sometimes reflections are very two-dimensional. They only see things from one perspective. "I was thinking of a band name."
"You don't have a band."
"No."
"You can't sing."
"No."
"You don't play an instrument."
"No…"
"So you're avoiding."
"Yes." Pulling back the curtain, I step into the cascading water. I hear a burbling voice in the dark, but the water's song drowns it out. Even my foot begins to feel better. Still twisted, but far less throbbing.
It's time to get some things done. That's what the reverse-me is alluding to. It wants action, I'm ok without that. I believe that water beading off my back is action enough. Soon a hum builds in my throat, throwing up words until they pour out, "Cuz I'm a cowboy, on a ste-el horse I ride…"
It's one of the problems with living alone: too much time, too much "think." Thinking of things to consider, reconsider, and over consider. When I was married, I had to snatch thoughts as they flew past. In the dark, there are so many I missed. Now, they've stopped. they're like shapes in the shadows. Bright eyes blinking in the dark, waiting to be recognized, and their numbers are growing. This is new.
The arguing with myself? No, I've always done that. MyUnwife thought I was crazy. Maybe so, but she married me. Guess she fixed that problem.
Right now I've got my own problems. Other than I can't find the soap in the dark, I've got issues I've avoided since MyUnwife left. Things that need to be addressed, but I don't want to face.
"Ow! Ow! Ow!" Do you know how hard it is to see that your eyes are open in the dark? Luckily for me I've got little lye rivulets to tell me the truth. Lucky me.
"Cuz I'm Wanted! (Waaannnt-ted!) Dead or alive. Dead…"
I'm also clean. Did I say I had problems? Did I tell you what they were? In all the cleanly rejuvenation, I've forgotten.
"Did I fire five bullets or Six?" I'm Dirty Robby. No I'm not, I'm turning off the water because I'm cleanly Robby.
Cleanliness is next to Robliness. That's an important adage to remember. I say it aloud for my reflection to consider. "Cleanliness is next to Robliness."
He doesn't answer. Not even when I turn off the water. Has he gone? Is he sulking? I don't know. I'll check when I turn on the light. First I grab the towel. As I wipe myself down, wads of cotton and string cling to my flesh.
"Crap!" Ok, I said more than that, but I'm trying to keep my mouth clean; my body is now caked in filth. I've broken out in a jade terry pox.
My towel has disintegrated. Even in the dark, I can see that. It's broken down to simple elements of cotton balls and weave.
I need another shower.
"Crap!" I repeat the less clean alternative, then start the water again.
This time I hear the voice as clear as a bell, "There's a roll of paper towels under the sink. You'll want those when you're done with the shower. You need to buy new linens, you've waited long enough. It's time."
My reflection is right. You can try, but some things can't be put off forever. Sometimes you just have to move on.
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