The Word that Rhymes with Witch.
These descriptions give you a clear picture of what it's like to be me right now. Last night I stood in the shower, reduced to tears because the brand new bar of goats milk soap my mom bought for me slipped from my grasp and fell to the bottom of the tub. They weren't gentle, sweet tears. It wasn't one of those "aw, she's pregnant and emotional" moments. It was scary.
My nose turned red. My face twisted like an angry turnip and I blubbered. I tried to grab it as the rogue soap slipped side to side around the drain. Shampoo ran into my left eye. I began to scream in pain.
It was the pregnancy-hormone equivalent of Armageddon.
And so I finally kicked the soap. I stubbed my toe on the side of the tub. I cursed, incorporating words like "rat" several times into my tirade. The soap flew into the air and believe it or not, I caught it. Mid air. Right in front of my face. I sniffed a few times, held my eye open under the shower to wash it out (which had at this point had turned an angry shade of pink), and proceeded to finish my shower.
I believe it was Shakespeare who coined the phrase "All's well that ends well." And I guess that even applies to hormone-laced, profanity-filled, eye-stinging, soap-losing showers.