I took a shower and met a nymph
She rose out of the drain. She kissed me on the cheek and waved, then disappeared again.
“What was that, dear?” I heard Jenny say beside me. I pulled the shower curtain back and saw her sitting on the toilet with her pants down and doing her makeup out of her purse.
“Nothing,” I said. “Hey, what time is it?”
“Shit, I’m going to late for work.” I started washing the shampoo out of my hair.
“O, you’re always late. You know that.”
“I know that,” I said, grabbing my towel and stepping out as I dried off. “The problem is so does my boss, and I promised him I’d be on time today.”
I stepped toward her, still dripping and reached for the pair of boxer-briefs I’d sat on the back of the commode before getting into the shower.
“Ugh,” I reeled back once the smell got in my nose. “Why didn’t you tell me you were taking a crap?”
She looked down at the bowl between her legs and rolled her eyes, then went back to doing her makeup. I grumbled curses as I put on my underwear and went to my room to finish getting dressed. I didn’t bother brushing my teeth or combing my hair; a stick of mint gum and running my hands through my hair during the drive there would do just as well.
My clothes were laid out for me on the floor where I’d dropped them. When I got home today, I’d watch television in them, surf the computer in them, then climb into bed in them again. Every day the same glorious repetition. Sisyphus would be proud.
I grabbed the keys off the counter, said good-bye to Jenny, and went out the front door, already the nymph forgotten and the day’s magic used up.