Here's a silly question. Why do we have such a hard time throwing away old, dried up bars of soap? We know they've given up their best lather, yet we still save a small place in the corner of our bath or shower stall to keep them around. It's a kind of soap graveyard of sorts. A new bar has taken its place. It's not as if we feel like we still want to use it.
They are in essence, hunks of soap scum and while they still have an ounce or two of their original color, they will soon become white, opaque skeletons formed in the last shape our fingers molded them in.
Why do we do this? It's a bit of a mystery to me. If we agree it's not for the sake of conservation, then why are we so attached to these blobs of colored fat? Maybe it's because we use them on our bodies. They are more intimate with us than most people in our lives. Is it personal?
I think it is and I will tell you why. Unless we are still fourteen, the soap we choose is usually very specific. You might say you don't have a favorite soap, but I bet you know the kind of soap you hate. We are particular about our soap.
For example, some soaps leave a strange fatty smell on your body after you've used them. Some are too dry on your skin. Some are too much like lotion and are impossible to wash off. Then there's the whole choice of scent. These are all factors.
I don't like soaps that have oatmeal in them. I'm guessing this is supposed to have some kind of exfolient effect, but I don't care. I don't like food products in my soap. Neither do I like a bar of soap with rosemary in it. I don't want to smell like a plate of rosemary potatoes after I wash.
So, having said all that, I am no closer to understanding why old soap accumulates in my shower. The very least I can do is offer them a decent burial.