Impatience was to her what fridge magnets were to Wolverine. Her own personal ridiculous kryptonite. As a child she was determined to become an intelligent person, since intelligence seemed to be the closest thing to a super power that someone could realistically achieve. However, this intellectual brilliance and her genetically acquired––let's call it intolerance to annoyingly slow situations–– created a paradox. It was beautiful, in an artistic and maybe philosophical way, but it was also very, very unproductive.
Sitting in the bathtub, with her body leaning towards the water, she wondered for a while (longer that she would ever admit) how to put her hair into the water. There were two clear, simple options: leaning backwards, also known as the way everybody does it, the most logical way or the undeniably good way, and leaning forward, by far the stupidest choice, but also the fastest (probably half a millisecond). The fight between her carefully trained super power and her most dangerous weakness didn't last long. The result: water everywhere (ears, eyes mostly), tangled hair and shame, a lot of shame, a big load of shame. She also laughed quite a bit. Maybe there was a lesson to learn. Although there probably wasn't. She stood up and put her towel around her body.