I'm in the midst of a divorce. While my wife and I get everything sorted, I'm living at my mother's. It isn't really so bad - my mom still lives in the house of my childhood. Which brings back a lot of fond memories and all, but there is one big problem with this scenario: not one shower in the house. That's right: her gigantic, three story, five-plus bedroom, two bathroom house has no shower. Sub-optimal.
So I bathe every day. Now I happen to think that a bath is just dandy every now and again: a fine, relaxing avenue of supplemental hygenie. As a primary method of cleansing oneself, however, it leaves something to be desired. But here is the real kick in the shorts: my mom insists on having a bath hose connected to the faucet. Which would be ok, except that the hose is really narrow and her water pressure is very strong. Ever see those cartoons where the firehose flails around spraying everything? That's me every fucking morning.
6 comments:
We lived with just a bath for years. In fact, we've only had a working shower in the house since about September.
We made up for it somewhat by going frequently to the gym. We'd shower there late at night after our work-outs, and then wouldn't really need to bathe the next morning.
We didn't think it was so bad. The worst thing was when we had guests who were used to showers.
Well, every time we go to London, we stay with friends of Christy's who have a very typical English basement apartment. For four days or so, I can rock the morning bath; but man alive, I'd die if I had to deal with that every day.
And I have to admit, that I laughed out loud at the image of you struggling with the bath hose spraying water all over the bathroom. Sorry, Sam.
jfb - glad to make you laugh! It is supremely comical. Seriously, more than a few times I've had to towel dry the walls, mirrors, picture frames, and ceiling (!). Yesterday was particularly bad. I could not get control of the goddamn hose. You'd think I'd learn... but you'd be wrong.
The first place I lived in 'on my own' was the upstairs apartment of my Grandmothers duplex. It too did not have a shower. Every morning the ritual consisted of taking a nice hot bath, the tub was an old deep claw foot. And would finish with we washing my hair in the kitchen sink. I did this for years.
I feel your pain.
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