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After a long evening of flashing and chasing around wild plot bunnies, Snickie moseys off to the shower, eager to wash away the ink splotches and banana mush from the evening's shenanigans off of her skin and out of her hair.
She passes by Wizard in the hall, who is still playing with her own plot bunny. It's a feisty thing and seems to have a masochistic enjoyment of whatever Wizard is doing to it. Snickie surmises she'll get to read all about it later. After her shower.
There are no washcloths in the vanity, which is fine because Snickie packed her own loofah. She steps into the scalding hot shower and melts contentedly.
By the time she has scrubbed everything free of ink and bananas and contemplated whether or not accidentally killing someone while you're on a sled would be considered vehicular manslaughter, it has been half an hour and she feels much better about life. She may still be lacking in kitty cuddles, but a long, hot shower is almost as relaxing so she'll take it.
She shuts off the water and reaches for the bathrobe on the hook just outside the shower curtain, only to find it's not there. Is she misjudging the location of the hook relative to the shower? Did they move it during some minor renovation? Snickie pulls back the curtain only to find the hook is exactly where it was last year and completely bereft of her bathrobe or any drying implement.
Snickie wraps herself in the plastic shower curtain and steps out of the shower, dripping water everywhere because the towel that was on the floor to serve to soak up said water is no longer there, and walks to the linen closet, but there are no towels in there either. She sighs, braces herself for the incoming chill because she's still far too wet to put on her pajamas, and steps out of the bathroom and into the hallway.
Ah, of course. The towels are all being used to clean up the ink and bananas, lest everyone lose their deposit on the retreat lodgings. Not even one is clean now.
She goes to her room, unpacks her hair dryer, and goes back to the bathroom.
In the hallway, after cleaning up a particularly large ink blot of at least three hundred words, Windy sits down, and regrets it, as she has sat down into a puddle.