The Scrubber

As I lay back in the tub and relax, I look up at the shower head and the lufah scrubber hanging from there.
My eyes are cloudy from the steam and the stress of the day washing off of me, so when I look at the sponge at the end of the stick, it looks like a cross between Mr. Peanut and one of the California Raisins.
I can’t tell if he’s smiling or frowning. He’s squinting, for certain, but his expression is really hard to read.
Who cares, right?
So, I reach for the stick and scrub my back.