Showering with Clancey the Clown

I recently moved into a new place. Two of my best friends were kind enough to let me stay with them until I found a place and got everything moved. The moving process has been pretty easy since they only live a few minutes away, but it hasn't been completely smooth.

A couple days ago, I slept at the new place for the first time since I got it. From my friends' house, I packed what bath materials I thought would be sufficient to sleep, shower, and go to work the next day. I didn't take into consideration that I am stupid. 

I woke up (later than anticipated) Monday morning and turned on the shower when a sinking feeling hit me - I forgot to pack soap or shampoo. Gah! I had my loofah, but no sudsy materials. I did a quick Google search to for shampoo alternatives to reveal that baking soda would do the trick! But it was no good. I had thrown out my baking soda during the move. Another alternative was wood ash, but I didn't have time to start and put out a fire. 

So I put on my thinking cap.

I wasn't about to go to work unshowered, since I hadn't showered the day before (it was Sunday, give me a break). I thought about everything I had in the house, a good portion of which was bought at thrift stores. Then the terrible reality had dawned on me: I had soap. Sure, I got it at a thrift store. It was just another thing I bought planning to feature on Woodn't Ya Know It that I never got around to. The thing was, the soap was clown soap. From 1973... 

Clancey the Clown, offering me his "soap"

I had to use it. There were no alternatives, aside from going to the store to get soap and shampoo and being super late to work. So use it I did. I scrubbed a 40 year old bar of crusty, pink clown soap all over my most intimate places, trying to imagine it was anything else. But that wasn't the worst part. I don't know if you've ever tried to wash your hair with a bar of soap (clown soap, no less), but it's the worst. Not so much the actual washing - it's actually quite sudsy - but for the rest of the day my hair felt... bad. I debated telling anyone of my hardship, but I think admitting it will help me move on.

But my hair is now afraid of clowns.

Here is the crusty bar of soap, just minutes after I used it:

In other news, I got an award from one of my super awesome blog-friends, Storm! I'll have to pass it along later though, because I have stayed up way too late telling the Internet that I washed my body with 4-decade old clown soap.