I went to Texas for the first time for work this week. I had never been to the Lone Star state, and was seriously hoping for some Basement of the Alamo kind of environment. Sadly, I was in Houston and learned that just like there is no basement in the Alamo, Houston isn't the old west. Also the Alamo isn't there. I had forgotten where it was. Luckily I asked before I went.
The first thing that happened was that after our plane ride of about 2 hours, I stood up. My knee however decided it wasn't coming along. I could barely move. I hobbled off of the plane, got my bag and found my workmates to head to the hotel. The knee felt weirdly stiff, and a bit hurty. No big whup.
I was delighted to have gotten a big room, for no apparent reason. I think it's because I called the 800 number annoyed with the local desk for not giving me my discount and for being a doofus. My reward was a mini suite like room bigger than I actually needed.
It was pretty nice.
The other thing that was nice was the bathroom, which I failed to take a picture of. The bathroom was like every mother's dream HUGE fancy shower head, enormous garden bath, three feet deep and wide. SO wide I could've invited friends over.
But that would be inappropriate.
I decided on my first night, that a luxurious bath was just the ticket. I'd take a lovely bath, and then I would ice my knee. Warm then cold, that's a thing right? I don't know. It's a thing in my mind.
It didn't occur to me though, that taking a bath would involve getting one leg over that bathtub wall. Did I mention it was like three feet deep? When one knee isn't quite up to par, you have to make a decision. WHICH KNEE WILL I USE FOR WHAT? Will I balance on the bad knee, step over with my good knee, risking falling backward onto the tile? Or will I step in with my bad knee, risking it wobbling out from under me and me slipping, hitting my head and drowning in the tub? I opened the stopper just in case and carefully stepped in, closing it once I was seated.
The water piled in around me, warm wonderful heat, sloshing around my self and making me weightless and my knee barely hurt. Well, it hurt a bit when I had to lean up to turn off the water. But barely.
I washed and conditioned my hair, and then broke out my new soap. I just got new fun soap at the pumpkin patch. Pumpkin/Butternut Squash all natural body soap stuff. I like all natural body soap stuff. That's good, right?
As I was slathering my form with copious amounts of this new product, I was thinking, "What does this smell like?" It wasn't like soap. It was disconcertingly like something else. It's not that it was unpleasant it just wasn't a SOAP smell. I have to confess, I do want my soap to smell a bit like soap.
It was about that time I felt warm and dreamy and realized I was nearly breaking the rule of not swimming alone in this huge tub, so I pulled the drain to again minimize my risk of drowning and managed to find a way out of the tub, albeit quite painful and awkward.
I got on pajamas, slippers, and hobbled down the hall for some ice for my knee.
But that smell. What was that smell?
I settled in on my sofa, found an episode of South Park I hadn't seen (not hard, haven't watched it in years) and put the ice pack on my knee.
What I learned in Texas was two things.
1. That smell was the smell of Butternut Squash baby food. Who in gods green earth makes soap that smells like baby food?
2. I now know what the Human Centipede is, because of South Park. I've steadfastly avoided finding out what it was for all these years. Thanks Matt and Trey, you dicks.
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