It was always a relief when it came to this time of day, Ann thought. As much as she enjoyed making the inn sparkle, the process left her covered in the dust and dirt that she worked so hard to keep off of the surfaces of her beloved home and business.
So it was in these late afternoons that she turned on the faucet, untied the ribbon in her hair, and heaved a sigh of relief as she listened to the tinkling of water hitting the cast iron tub. She unraveled her braid, the red strands wavy from being tied in so tightly. She lit a peppermint candle and the scent filled the air and she peeled off her sweaty, dusty clothes, jumping into the piping hot shower.
The water washed away not only the day’s grime, but also her worries about what still needed to be done. Time froze as she enjoyed the feeling of the water pelting the top of her head, massaging her scalp. All that existed was the shower above her and the fresh scent of soap as the suds rolled down her shoulders. Of course, there was still much to be done, but for right now, she enjoyed the simple moment and comfort that a warm shower brought to her weary body and mind.
anne carson: simple moving poem about awkward dinners with not-quite-friends and the ennui that comes with realizing this mundane unhappiness is all adult life is sometimes
insane people on twitter: has she ever tried being happy? i like going to dinner with friends, what’s wrong with her? she can afford to go out to dinner, she shouldn’t complain. just be a cooler hang, skill issue. this isn’t my exact experience (i like my friends) therefore this poem is bad and unrelatable and pretentious. she can’t debone a fish? loser.