"Shit, shit, shit."
I hop in the shower.
If I'm going to have a mental breakdown about whatever this is with Andrew, I might as well smell good while doing it.
The hot water feels amazing against my tense shoulders, and for a few blissful
minutes, I let myself turn into a houseplant under the flow.
Eventually, though, duty calls. I do a stellar job shaving my left leg—honestly, this baby belongs in a museum—and I tackle my right leg with similar gusto.
But I lose focus as I get into the awkward gargoyle crouch required to properly trim the lady parts.
Before I know it, I nick myself right in the crease where my thigh meets my butt.
"Ow! Fuck!"
Blood swells in the water and swirls pink down the drain. I press my thumb and hiss as the hot water amplifies the sting.
"Dammit, dammit, dammit! Stupid dull razor. Stupid leg. Stupid butt. This is all just so unbelievably stupid."
