Scrub-a-dub-dub

I'm reading two historical novels right now, which is pretty uncommon. Both refer at some point to the limitations of hygiene ( or ablutions as they so elegantly say) in the good ol' days. Showers were at best a few times a week. At best. Hair washing?

Let's just say it's a good thing those smell receptors in your nose get plugged pretty quick and quit assimilating new odors, or the human race would have died out long ago.

I've never used hair washing as an excuse to get out of a social occasion, but it is an event of sorts. It takes time and effort and means I can't hit snooze in the morning because I have to do it and don't want to be late. I'm sitting here right now thinking how I wish there were a magical way to make it be clean without any effort. There isn't.

But, in light of my reading material and the associated phantom scents, I'm really grateful fro the modern conveniences of plumbing, hot water, soap and shampoo that smells like flowers, hair dryers, and flat irons. Praise Jesus for flat irons.