In our bathroom, we have a corner shower caddy with three large shelves stacked on top of each other. They are completely occupied by my wife Anna’s shampoos.

I use a 1.5 liter family shower gel that says in tiny print on the back: “Suitable for body, face, and hair. Since there is no place in the caddy, I keep it on the floor.

Why does Anna use so many shampoos? I took a closer look at the labels: Color Protect, Silk Shine, Hair Nutrition, First Aid, Vitamin Shot, Damage Repair, and so on.

The other day, Anna’s friend Majvor stopped by. While Anna was upstairs getting dressed, I noticed Majvor looked pale.

“Are you okay?”

“I’ve had a headache this morning,” she says.

“I had one a few days ago, too,” I tell her, “but I managed to get rid of it.”

“How?” she asks.

“Well, I saw that Anna had a shampoo called First Aid. I took a shower, used it, and the headache was gone!”

Majvor’s eyes lit up. “Oh! Where can I buy that shampoo?”

“At the hospital,” I reply. “The emergency room.”

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For more essays, see my book  The Kitchen Buddha