R.E.M. says everybody hurts. I do a little remix – everybody showers. And some, like me, do it in the dark.

I’ve always brushed my teeth in the shower, because that’s just nice. The combination of hot steam and icy toothpaste makes it feel like you popped an Altoid. Plus it’s a time-saver. I’ve also experimented with turning the water to freezing cold right before I get out, because that wakes me up and tests my will. I shiver, but I’m happy to have endured a full 10 seconds. And lastly, I’m a big fan of sitting in the shower, as long as it’s a clean tub. When I turn the water to really hot I like to pretend I’m under a sort of exotic hot spring waterfall. Those exist, right?

I’m pretty sure I’m not alone in these habits, especially the teeth brushing. But two years ago a friend told me about a bathing ritual of which I had never heard: showering with the lights off. My reaction was the same as most others’ when I bring up the anomaly now. Isn’t that dangerous? How can you tell the shampoo from the conditioner? WHAT ABOUT SHAVING?

This friend also brings his cell phone into the shower and to this day calls me mid-shampoo, but I took his advice anyway. I can’t afford to get my phone wet (again). But on the whole I’m pretty interested in expanding my shower repertoire.

The result was … cool.

For one, with the lights off you don’t have the chance to examine – and bemoan – every stray hair and mildew crust lurking on the tile. Maybe you actually clean your shower. But for all of you who, you know, bathe in scum, when you shower in darkness you can imagine whatever tub setting you want. You could be in a four-star hotel, surrounded by luxurious marble and anticipating a plush towel. You could be in a cedar shower shack, rinsing off moments after emerging from the sea. Or you could be on a yacht and Daniel Craig could appear out of nowhere and stage a surprise back-attack. Or maybe not. Maybe that’s entirely inappropriate.

But there is the issue of figuring out which bottle houses what. It’s really not that difficult; a great chance to get to know your shower products, actually. And just like the toothpaste phenomenon, the lack of light heightens your awareness of the other sensual aspects of the experience. Suddenly you can detect every note of “baby powder and golden sunshine splash” in what was previously just a cheap bottle of Suave. Each grapefruit bead really does burst as you wash your face, just like the Neutrogena model said it would. And tea-tree oil products, man.

With the lights off, the shower is therapy. When you can barely make it out of bed, you can dodge daylight and ease into your morning. When you come home on a freezing February night, you can unwind with a steamy pseudo-nap. And if you’re one to invite guests in the shower, that can be (extra) fun too.

I realize I just spent a lot of time describing stuff done in the buff, but bear with me. (Bare with me.) The best part about bathing with the lights off, or bringing a toothbrush into the tub, or sitting for a shower, is that it transforms the entire institution of bathing from a fundamentally practical act – scrubbing the dirt off your body, you filthy animal – to an experience, an event.

Remember when your mom used to write your initials in icing on a toaster strudel? Or cut your sandwich into fourths? To me, showering with the lights off is like that: a small touch that enhances an otherwise mundane activity. I like doing it because it helps me derive a bit more amusement from an increasingly tedious schedule. It’s kind of like yeah, I have to go to work for eight hours, but I’m going to balance on these landscaping bricks to get there, instead of the sidewalk. Because it’s fun.

T. Pain says to turn all the lights on, but I’m going to go with New Boyz on this one. It’s better with the lights off.

-Emily Huizenga can be reached at [email protected]