A right handed man's cleanest side will be his left side, and what else is there to think of in the shower?

Do you think about washing? Imagining the phantom molecules of dirt and odour being carried away under the soapy lather, just as they would in the advertisement for the soap. Are you even in the shower? Instead you could be running around ticking off infinite other to-do's or dwelling on an argument that could never be solved, standing in a shower.

Or do you just close your eyes against the shampoo and think about girls.

A man's shower, a proper Man's shower is probably more perfunctory than this. Less wondering about which parts of my body do I fit into and which not. Don't my leg's look dead! Having been buried beneath ten tonne of torso all day, once deshrouded they're a mottled, veiny grey. I think the noise "Urgh", followed by an unbidden series of images of bermuda shorts on a sunny day, kilts, skirts and swimwear as an even greater disgust dismisses each of them, one by one.

Today, I think, my shower is going to be different. Fuck it, where are the oils? I'm sunburnt as a galley slave from rowing all day - sporting! Outdoors! Don't you just love the sound of the word "OAARR!"? But now, I'm going to make this room a humid womb and spill the essences over and around me like my very first entry into sensation. I'm going to, haha, create a cauldron and fill it with witchazel and sate my skin with emolient ointments and I'm going to sing! I swear it! I'm going to sing , because singing is for everyone and I refuse to resist singing my life for one minim longer!

But I'm already clean. Towel from the rail, drape across the skin and rub the furs roughly all over it. Dry dry dry dry dry dry dry dry dry dry.