Normally when we shower we do it in a moderately lit stall or tub that is full of distractions. When you stand under that water and let it flow over your tense body, it should be like relaxing in your own personal spa. The last thing you need is to be reminded of the blue ring around the tub that your child left there after her post-color-run bath. You don’t want to be feeling guilty that you have not scrubbed that shower wall for some time, or worrying that you are almost out of shampoo, or really thinking about anything at all. Now, to truly shower in peace, your only option previously was to close your eyes, but eyelids still let a sense of light in. This was not good enough. This is why, this morning, I experimented with the all new “lightless shower.”
To be fair, I did not do this intentionally. I was taking a normal, lighted shower, when my son burst into the bathroom yelling about, oh, who knows. He is always yelling about something. I told him he ought to get ready for school, so he said “fine,” and went to leave, which was when I was plunged into total darkness.
“Edward!” I shouted. “Turn the lights back on!” I was not yet ready to fully embrace the peace and quiet of a lightless shower. We have no windows in our bathroom, so it was really pitch black in there.
“I can’t!” he cried in terrified surprise. “The light’s broken!” So my four-year-old was now wandering around in the darkened bathroom, flailing and crashing into things, looking for the door. I would have helped him, but I was in the shower, and I could not even see my hand in front of my face. I don’t know that a wet and slippery naked Tenor Dad flailing and crashing into things would have improved the situation. Luckily he eventually found the door, opened it, and a small sliver of light reached the bathroom. “Mommy! We need a new lightbulb!” he called out down the stairs.
“The power’s out!” my wife replied. This would explain why that sliver of light was so small. There were no lights anywhere, it was cloudy and rainy out, and so even with the door open it was quite dark in there. That was when Edward decided to go downstairs, and all of those years of training him finally paid off. For once, he actually remembered to close the bathroom door on the way out, and I was plunged once more into total darkness.
At this point I had no choice but to go with it. Embrace the darkness, Tenor Dad. Give in to your deepest desires for sensory deprivation. Take a lightless shower. So I did. It was an adventure. Standing under the water was pretty good. I would give it a 9 out of 10. Finding the soap I would have to give a 2. Getting out without killing myself would probably get a 4. Grabbing my towel would be a 7, because I pretty much know where my towel is, even in the dark. So averaging those things together I give lightless showering a total score of 5.5 out of 10. Not so bad, but I can’t say that I would recommend it that highly. Next time I might try it with the lights on. Just to spice things up.
Full disclaimer: This post has been sponsored by absolutely nobody, because lightless showers are not a thing, will not ever be a thing, and should not ever be a thing. Just be normal. Beeeee norrrrmaaaaaaaaalllll!