I want a bath. Badly. No, I don’t stink; I had a shower this morning before I went to work. But all this running around, from Peter to Paul to Mary then back to Peter again, has left me with a pressing need to soak away the day.
Showers just aren’t the same. You can’t really think in them. Well, not creatively at least. It must be something to do with the constant pressure of water on one’s body.
I doubt Archimedes would’ve come up with his theory of displacement while twiddling with taps and shower gel.
No eureka moment.