When I was growing up, my dad had this three-minute rule for showers. If he ever heard the water running for more than three minutes, he would start yelling. To no one’s surprise I continually broke the rule, until eventually, I broke him and he dropped it.
At the time, no one could identify my 30 to 45 minutes showers, my constant need for new soaps because the old ones fell on the bathroom floor, or my overly protective wash bag that I kept all my things in away from everyone else’s, as OCD (obsessive compulsive disorder). There was even a running joke to theorise why my showers lasted so long. My favourite theory was from my mom who once jokingly suggested that perhaps it was because I had different layers of skin to cleanse.
