Practicing zazen is a difficult task, with the remnants of the night before roaming through your body. So after about 20 minutes, I gave up and headed to the shower. Slightly amused, I gazed at my reflection in the bathroom mirror. Red rivers running capriciously through the whites of my eyes? Check. Dehydrated lips? Check. A tongue resembling mohair? Check. "I'm the withered victim of my appetites," I chuckled to myself. Sam entered the bathroom. Looked at me quizzically and asked, "What're you smirking about?" I shrugged, laughed and said, "I just crack myself up sometimes." After shaking her toussled hair and sitting down to relieve herself, "They have drugs for that, you know." As I began running a shower I said, "May cause anal leakage and erectile dysfunction." I moved my stale, dirty body underneath the warm shower stream. "Take this, smartass," Sam laughed as she flushed the toilet. I'm pretty sure I need a skin graft.
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