I have a love hate relationship with my shower at home. I love to hate it. Wah wah. There is no such thing as “jumping into the shower” at my place unless you’re looking to get doused with either freezing water or scalding water. Adjusting it is a fine art I have not learned despite having used it for 2.5 years by this point. I have figured out that only turning on the hot water takes several minutes to yield hot water. At that point, the cold water has to be cranked on, and the hot water has to be cranked down. Too many twists in either direction results in waiting uncomfortably out of the water’s reach while the temperature adjusts itself. One might think this method is a waste of water. Luckily, there is absolutely no water pressure so if it’s even possible to get a decent temperature going, one much patiently hang out under the dribble of water waiting for enough water to work up a lather and then more to rinse it out.
I had toyed with the notion of replacing the shower head, because that worked for Daniel. When I looked at the shower head, I once again remembered it was a newer, fancier model, and it did nothing to fix the water pressure. I then decided to hold onto the hose, I’m not sure why, maybe to cry out in anguish about the slightly too hot water, but mostly to see if I could even feel the water rushing through it. I couldn’t, and that’s when it happened. The shower head worked out of the holder, and before I could block it went THWUMP! and fell all top heavy directly onto my shoulder. I was surprised by how much it hurt, but I guess my already weakened emotional status could not handle the blunt force trauma. Immediately I thought about posting it to Sad-Sigh, then I forgot until I scratched my shoulder and felt the invisible bruise.
