The Contemplation of Bravery

Bravery 1) face something dangerous or unpleasant with courage and resolution 2) defy something against the odds.

Let's face it. The Microsoft Encarta Dictionary just doesn't get into the graphic details of bravery. I felt a moment of extreme bravery and stoicism today and I just don't feel justified by the definition.

What was this extreme act of bravery that I endured you ask? Today I decided that I was going to blow dry my hair like I did yesterday in some sort of vain attempt at looking less like a mongrel. I decided this too late in the morning and as part of my Maya Angelou "I will not change my mind like a girl" phase/attitude I stuck with it. I didn't have much time to shower and dry my hair. And I certainly didn't allot any time for airing out the stinky man turd that was deposited just moments before my anticipated arrival in the shower. I knew it was going to be bad when I knew the whereabouts of all of my roommates/pets and none of them were in the bathroom and yet the door was closed and the fan was whirring away. That my friends is the first sign-DO NOT OPEN THE DOOR. I certainly should have learned this before I moved off to college. Being the fool that I am I decided to risk it in the name of vanity. I needed to blow dry my hair and there was no talking me out of it today. Thanks Maya! I thought surely the cloud of grossness would dissipate as I showered and squirted lovely girly shampoo and body wash around the bathroom. I was wrong. Now that I look back on the events of the morning I know that I was naive in my thinking. I should know that when you mix a highly toxic boy poop smell and the steam of a great morning shower nothing good cam come of it. All I ended up with was a very hot and steamy boy poop smell. NO GOOD. Still, I was determined to tame my locks. As soon as I plugged in the blow dryer I remembered that yesterday I had dropped the entire thing into the toilet. Yay me! I was just so happy that my toothbrush didn't jump from it's 3rd floor home to its demise that I completely forgot about my blow dryer's swimming lesson. Nothing happened, just a quick heart palpitation as I awaited a surge of electricity that never came and a funny smell coming from the motor. I think it was burning toilet paper, but I guess I will never know.

Alright, so maybe I am being a little dramatic about the braveness that is me. Still I think I deserve some sort of award for living with boys. I think mom deserves an award too. I know she is very much aware of the highly toxic combination of shower and boy poop.