Sometime in early 2000, I developed a habit of buying bathroom products whenever I found them available in a '2 for 1' offer in the supermarkets which I frequented in South-East London. After all, such offers represented a significant saving, and it seemed to make sense to buy a sufficient quantity to last until the next special offer.

Unfortunately, for reasons which remain something of a mystery, my habit turned into an odd sort of compulsion. One afternoon in 2001, It dawned on me that I had several years' supply of shower gel, deodorant, hand soap, shaving gel, razor blades and shampoo stacked in cardboard boxes in my flat.

My heart sank when I realised what I had done, and I imposed a strict bathroom products moratorium, vowing that I would not buy so much as a single razor blade until I had used up all of my existing supplies. My mountain of toiletries began to oppress me. I've always enjoyed shopping for mens' toiletries - which is actually how my problem arose, of course - so the realisation that I would be unable to do so again for years saddened me. And, although I consoled myself with the thought that, should human civilisation collapse, I would not have to forego soap, or shave with a sharpened penknife for a very long time, the amount of storage space taken up by my unnecessary stash of bathroom goodies became a source of profound irritation.

I carefully measured my usage of these products over predetermined intervals, to gauge the rate at which I use each of them. I marked my progress on a spreadsheet, as they gradually diminished, to keep up morale. Every discarding of an empty deodorant spray in these last four years has been a minor cause for celebration, each ejection of an exhausted razor blade a little victory.

And now, the end is in sight. In the next few days, my present deodorant spray will expire, leaving me with exactly three. I now own no more than 1300ml of shower gel, and only twenty-one razor blades. I'm presently using the very last can of shaving gel. In other words, my gargantuan stock of bathroom products has dwindled to something approaching normal proportions; where once it dominated the hallway between the bathroom and the kitchen in my flat in large cardboard boxes, now it merely quietly occupies a modest area of shelf space.


Not much left - July 2005
I still have some way to go. Although I will be able to browse the supermarket shelves in search of deodorant again in less than four months, I anticipate that it will be sometime next year until I coax the last drop of shower gel from the last container, or attach the final razor blade to its stem. But I see a dim glimmer of light from that day at the end of the tunnel now, and what a joyous day it will be. Oh Lord, I believe my time ain't long.

I see my light come shining
From the west unto the east.
Any day now, any day now,
I shall be released

- Bob Dylan