Hey, hey, mama
You know how certain mundane things that occur in your life become forever associated with whatever else it is that's going on at a particular time? For example, every once in a while I'll catch a whif of a certain kind of chicken cutlet and I'll be instantly transported to the second grade and my elementary school cafeteria. Or how whenever I hear "Check Your Head" by the Beastie Boys I think of the summer of '92, right before my senior year of high school. That was a very good summer. Actually, I find that music has been a very important part of my life. I can usually accurately date a song by relating it to whatever was going on in my life at the time I first heard it. (This doesn't work for oldies or classic rock. Obviously "Black Dog" by Led Zeppelin didn't come out in the Fall of 1990, although the boxed set came out that year. Does that count?)
Back when we first moved to Salem in 2000 I sent away for Proactiv. I joined "the club" which meant I never had to reorder, a box would just magically appear on my doorstep once every two months. After about a year I had such a huge backlog of the stuff that I cancelled my membership, used up what I had, and then switched to the somewhat less expensive Cetaphil, which I could buy on an as-needed basis from my local drugstore.
Lately my skin has been a complete nightmare. Probably it's because it's winter and really dry despite the earnest efforts of our little-humidifier-that-could. Knowing that doesn't make it any less annoying. After the 37th (that's for you, Dave) viewing of the Proactiv commercial that prominently features a ridiculously good-looking Jessica Simpson, I finally caved and ordered the 30-day kit. The first few times I used it, it was like coming back to an old friend. Finally I realized why. Whenever I use the face cleanser, the scent makes me feel like I'm standing in the bathroom of our Salem condo and I am overwhelmed with the urge to go outside and walk up and down the pier while taking deep breaths of ocean air. Proactiv = perpetual summer in Salem. I'm always a little disappointed when I open my eyes only to discover I'm still in central Pennsylvania.
It's a good sixty seconds, though.