Morning Ablutions (Cigar Smoke 1-24-08)

I bet you are pretty much like me. You have no idea what an ablution is. You think it has something to do with guilt or religion. (No, that’s absolution.) Or you think it’s some kind of growth you get rid of by applying a good ablution cream. Nope.

I first heard the term when I was in college. I was reading Melville or some English dude who referred to someone “performing their morning ablutions.” But instead of looking it up, I decided to go on with the rest of my life and just pretend that I knew what it meant. Kind of like sex.

But one day while I was performing what I thought was a sex act, my helpful partner asked me if I had performed my morning ablutions. I thought it involved bending, so I dumped her. And picked up a dictionary.

I discovered that the word “ablutions” simply means acts of washing yourself. How disappointing. But, once I got past the ordinariness of what ablutions meant, I stopped to consider just how important ablutions are to all of us.

In the old days people would usually just take a bowl of water and start abluting, I guess; just dipped their hands in the bowl and splashed water on their faces. Makes sense. Who wants to be around someone who hasn’t abluted? I realize now that’s what my potential sex partner was trying to tell me: no ablution, no touchy. I was just a splash away from love.

But back then, I think, it was simpler than it is today. Today, performing your morning ablutions is, shall we say, challenging. Maybe “challenging” isn’t exactly the right word. Maybe it’s just more time-consuming. Yeah, that’s it. There is just way more abluting to do nowadays.

In the old days you just washed in the bowl and went to the bathroom and that was it. Today it is more complicated. Let me give you a more modern recap of performing ablutions.

Here’s what I did this morning to get ready for my day: I went into the bathroom and turned on the radio and then I turned on the hot water. Then I waited for the water to heat up. While I was waiting for the water to heat up, I multitasked and brushed my teeth.

When the water was hot, I splashed it on my face. Then I put on my shaving cream. Then I washed the shaving cream off my hands. Then I shaved. Then I looked at myself in the mirror. And winked.

Then I went to the bathroom. I’m not going into too much ablutive detail there. After that I sprayed some Fresh Linen air deodorizer to mask the nonfresh-linen results of my bathroom-going. It kind of smelled like a pile of warm clothes kissing an angel.

Then I got into the shower. I got the soap and washed my left arm with my right hand. Then I switched the soap to my left hand and washed my right arm. Then I washed a few other things I could reach. My feet weren’t one of them. Haven’t washed those guys since the Rams were in LA.

Then, of course, any good abluter has to shampoo his hair. So I had to make the decision to use either my red Strawberry Fields or my green Apple Festival shampoo. I always like to have options when I shampoo. I usually rotate four bottles of shampoo, adding a Peach Mist and an Orange Cascades scent in there for health reasons. Some days I just don’t feel like a strawberry. You know what I mean? You do? Call me, maybe we can ablute together.

Of course, when you get out of the shower you have to dry yourself. Sheesh. Drying has to be considered ablusive, doesn’t it? I hate drying myself. The legs. The arms. The chest. The tummy. Too many body parts. Why hasn’t some guy invented the body blow dryer, dammit! Just step in it and hit the button. Hell, I bought a Kindle, I’m dumb enough to buy a body blower.

Then you obviously have to dry your hair. And when you’re finished with your hair, you have to spritz it, and brush it, and admire it, and then you have to put on underarm deodorant, and then put on some Chaps cologne so you can smell like … a chap, I guess. Damn, it’s ablusive, baby!

And then, because I just may be a little older than some of you stud-muffin abluters out there, I have to perform another somewhat sensitive ablution. Yeah, the doc said I probably needed a little something to perk up my interest in sex. So, although I hate to reveal myself in public, but because I am a truth-seeker, and a truth-teller, I have to inform you (under the Freedom of Too Much Information Act) that I rub this testosterone goop into my arms and chest.

I’m not exactly sure how this relates to ablusiveness, but hell, after rubbing in this gel, now even my hair has hair. My teeth are dating. And I’ve grown six little penises on each of my upper arms. It’s not really a problem, except that when they’re aroused, I can’t get my T-shirt on.

Yeah, this performing ablutions thing is pretty crazy. You know how you always hear about that poor, depressed guy who just can’t quite get it together? And they always say that the first thing to go is the person’s desire to take care of himself? They just won’t wash up or do all that stuff. It’s just too damn much trouble.

Well, I see that ablutions-rejecting rebel in a whole new light now — an admiring light. I say, “Nonablutionists, unite!” I say, “Ablution this!” I say, “Anyone with 12 penises on their arms is clean enough!”