Dial soap, eat your heart out

I probably could have stopped right there. No one would have blamed me. Some of you might have even encouraged me not to; but if I have learned one thing from my experiences in life it is this: when a woman like my Grandma stops you on your way to the shower and says, “Here, try this bar of goat soap,” you don’t just say no.

The bar was ominous enough – a dull yellow, a soap-bar shape (it could have had horns or a beard I suppose) and it had that smooth, waxy texture. The fragrance though was something of an herbal/minty/SomethingIDon’tWantOnMyBody type odor about it.

Once in the shower all seemed to be going ok, until the bar slid off its shelf and settled in position a few shuffled steps away. No matter how many times I placed this bar of soap back on its shelf, the moment I turned around it was back on the shower floor - almost in a watchful manner with a mind of its own. This is probably due to the chemical structure of the soap with this x factor of goat’s milk – but all the same, it was somewhat unnerving having a standoff with a giant yellow bar of soap that said “goat” on the top, all while being armed with nothing but my wet rag (potentially deadly in the right hands I assume.)

In summary, the soap turned out to be harmless enough. Other than an herbal odor that I normally wouldn’t choose for my own use – it seemed “normal soap” like in every other aspect.

Note: Presumably having an awkward shower-stall standoff with a cube of goat’s milk and lard is considered not “normal soap” like as well. Other than that it was fine.