Squeaky Clean!

When you are middle “cough” aged, strange thoughts wander through your mind. Some of the thoughts get through without your catching them long enough to remember them. Others stay a while.

The other day I was taking a shower – that’s not the strange part. I had washed my hair and had rinsed it. I was remembering what my mom had told me when I was little. If you can rub your hair and it makes a squeaky noise then it’s clean. I got to thinking about my eyebrows. I rubbed my eyebrows. They didn’t make the squeaky noise. So I put a little dab of shampoo on each one and lathered them and rinsed them. I rubbed them again – viola! They squeaked!

I looked down. No not there, but lower. I looked at my legs. I had a little stubble on my legs. I looked around and thought no one has to know. I put some shampoo on my legs and lathered and rinsed. I bent real low (you have to be flexible for this part). Put my ear as close as I could and ran my fingers over the stubble. It was a Horton hears the Who moment! I could hear the faintest squeak. I stood up with a feeling of success.

Each year when the leaves begin to turn their autumn colors and there is a crisp chill in the air, I make my yearly pronouncement - “I won’t shave my legs until the hair interferes with tying my shoes.”

 I’m sure the squeak will get louder.