Not again

I wash obsessively in the village. I’m so dirty by the end of each day that I don’t get into bed without bathing first. This is a good policy, because my sheets only get washed once a month. Also, dirty people here get skin infections – trust me.

In the city though, I’ve been known to just brush my teeth, wash my feet and fall into bed with my clothes on. (The foot habit developed after I spent a night in Costa Rica sharing a room with Heather when I was a kid. She might remember my insisting that she wash her feet because she had been hiking for weeks and I was suspicious.)

I’m getting off track. Last night I went to bed with my clothes on. The clothing is a practical dress I had made from some remarkably ugly wax fabric.  I woke up this morning and the print is tattooed to my skin. All over. I can’t get it off. I look like a circus freak and I’m getting really strange looks.

This has happened before. The first time mom and I dyed sheets together I ignored her warnings about the toxic chemicals and just happily splashed the dye wherever. I ended up with rainbow colored legs for a week (and maybe cancer in a few years). I hope this doesn't last as long. The rainbow legs were a little fun, but this isn't even a pretty pattern.