There are several different levels of cleanliness. Currently, we are in Yosemite and mostly clean. We would be closer to actually clean if the box that we mailed to Yosemite Village containing clean underwear, shirts, t-shirts, shorts, socks and shoes had not been returned to sender by the Yosemite post office. For reasons we have yet to understand, the Yosemite post office only holds general delivery mail for half the length of time of any other post office in the United States. They mailed it back to us when we at 12,000 feet slogging through the mile of snow on Muir Pass.
To make this just a little worse, only hours after we finished the hike, minutes after an initial scrubbing and even before searching for food, we set off for the post office. It was 100 degrees outside, Beth was delirious, looked at the map, and directed that we walk. 20 minutes later, when we found the sign proclaiming "0.5 miles to Yosemite Village", she almost sat down on the spot, a dirty, dusty path. We were tired, hungry, and hot. You get the picture. Then, 100 yards from the post office, Beth had an epiphany. It was Sunday. Little did we know the package we desperately sought wasn't even in the closed post office--we'd have to wait until 8:30 this morning to be disappointed again. It was pretty much the only logistical oversight of the trip, but still... It was hard to accept. Even now, we sit here and type in our sandy, dusty, sappy, saggy, shall we say, stinky, trail shorts.
We'd be sitting here in equally filthy hiking shirts, socks, and boots, had it not been for the pizza place next to the closed post office, where we shared a large artichoke heart and tomato pizza, with a 3 scoop cookies and cream appetizer. Our predicament became somewhat clearer after the pizza--we bought flip flops and t-shirts from the clearance rack (everything in Yosemite Valley is overpriced). Beth's t-shirt is drab green with an image of a trailer on the front.