It all started on a rainy morning and with the look: leather shorts that would make any rock star jealous, a pink sweater so bright it should have come with a "wear sunglasses" sign, and a very warm winter coat inside, and of course, the school backpack stuffed with notebooks, study plans (just kidding), and some loose sheets of paper with somewhat suspicious drawings.

I went out with the intention of keeping myself clean. But then I saw the muddy path. Ah, my old acquaintance. That shortcut full of mud, promises of chaos and fun. The temptation was instantaneous. I felt it. Lama called me. And who am I to say no?

I took the first step with that mischievous joy the second time I was already laughing the third time: Bam I slipped gloriously! But it was no accident. It was a choice. I dove headfirst into the mud like someone diving into the summer sea. I made mud angels, rolled around, screamed "wheeee" like I was 5 again. The shorts and the shirt? They became part of the landscape. Brown was the new black.

The backpack? It turned into a paper soup. The notebooks looked like wet cakes. Modern art. Academic chaos. Wonderful.

And when I thought I had reached the peak I Tore my coat. That's right. With the scissors that I carried with my school supplies, and I said "freedomeeee!." Without hesitation, I took it off, placed it on the floor and stepped on it with gusto. Pis! Ploc! Pis! I sank my coat into the mud like someone planting a victory flag. It was buried. Buried with honor. Warrior's coat, fallen in battle.

I? Laugh like crazy. Covered in mud from head to toe. Happier than a child in a water park. Because I like it. By the way, I Love getting dirty. Mud is my free therapy.

Moral of the story? Style is good, but a good mud bath with laughter is even better. And yes, the coat will be missed but the timing? Unforgettable.