Bloodbath

by shionline

The thing about Israel, as much as we like pretending that we have a mild climate, green meadows, and a functional democracy, is that it’s really 70% made of desert. This means that we don’t have plenty of water: The majority of it comes from a large lake that is never, ever full .

We are constantly reminded that there is not enough water in Israel, and that we absolutely have to save every last drop of it. Even if we’re having a rainy winter, even if Tel-Aviv has been flooded again because they haven’t fixed the sewage system since 1968, and even if the Hermon just had the biggest snowstorm in history- Taking a bath is basically treason.

Now, since there is no capital punishment for treason in Israel, we’ve moved to the second and third best options: Guilt and money. If you waste too much water, the  PSAs alone will make you want to die for endangering your country. The water bill, as a safety net, will make sure that you won’t be able to afford food, and starve to death.

Now, what is especially hard for me about the no-bath rule, is that a soak makes it about 46635 times easier to shave your legs.  This is the only way for me to remove hair from my legs, because of extreme sensitivity to pain. If you consider this too much information, leave the internet and go bake oatmeal cookies. And now I’m back from a week in Paris, in a hotel room that had a bathtub.

In France, being depressed as I was, I took a bath nearly every day. During one of them, I thought, those hairs are getting a bit long. I should shave them. But the thing about me and hair removal isn’t just my pain sensitivity- I’m also very, very clumsy. And yet, still thought it would be a good idea to shave my legs after a bath, in a bathroom I shared with my sister.

It all seemed to go smoothly, at first. At least until I went out and discovered I’m standing in a giant pool of blood. The floor towel looked like I’ve murdered a maid who ignored the ‘do not disturb’ sign. I’ve left bloody footprints all over the bathroom, and without first aid at hand, used half a roll of toiler paper to try to stop the bleeding. And then my sister came back.

It’s a weird situation, facing your older sister in a room full of blood, spouting from the smallest shaving cut ever. She was graceful, and just made sure I knew I’d be cleaning that up, and that I should just keep pressing the toilet paper. I guess that’s what older sisters are for.