Archive for November 2007

November 27th, 2007

Deck the Stall

Something I am thankful for: the shower at my apartment.

Our Thanksgiving visit to Steph’s family’s house confirmed this. I love Steph’s family very much. They are wonderful people who have never been anything but good to me. But their showers have no water pressure. They are aware of this. We discuss it on occasion.

Of course their showers probably seem unusually frail to me because the shower at Steph and I’s apartment has been permanently dialed in at “water cannon.” I’m not sure if it’s the brand of shower head we have (which I have been unable to determine, despite looking intently for it, so that I can buy one for myself and all the people that I care about) or something with the way the plumbing’s run or just that, at some point, our landlords sent our shower to massage school where it learned the secrets of loosening and relaxing one’s deep muscle tissue.

If you haven’t been prepared for this shower, it can be a bit of a shock. The first time I used it went something like this: We’d been moving in for hours, I was covered in sweat and grime, and once we called it a day, I retired to the bathroom. I pulled back the temporary plastic curtain, grabbed the knobs, and gave them a turn. It was then that I began to understand that this was no ordinary bathing vessel. My family has always fitted their sink and shower fixtures with high-pressure water-saving nozzles, meaning I’m accustomed to a higher level of (I’m going for it) “shower power” (hmm…), but something about this was different. The spray burst forth, creating a wind tunnel in the stall. I disrobed (insert sounds of women whooping and hollering), took a deep breath, and stepped in. I swear I was nearly knocked over by the force. Water poured onto my head and into my eyes. It sounded like the base of a waterfall in there. All I could hear was “KSSSSHHHHHHHH!” punctuated by the “POP….! PAP…! POP…! PAP…!” of the curtain flapping in and out. For a few seconds I had no idea where I was or what was happening to me. I rubbed my eyes and opened them, regaining composure for a few seconds. This was incredible! I was going to let out a “Yee-haw!” but when I opened my mouth it was immediately filled with liquid. Thanks to our apartment building’s very old drains, standing water quickly creeped up past my ankles. In a matter of minutes the tub would be overflowing! This was, without a doubt, the single most frantic showering experience of my life. While I’d been dead tired from lugging boxes and furniture around, by the time I did my final rinse, I was completely reinvigorated.

Steph, on the other hand, is not thankful for our shower. Or at least she’s not thankful for the fact that when I use it, I enjoy opening it up to full blast and pummeling the dirt off of my body. A great deal of moisture gets spread around the tiny bathroom during this process. In addition to the high amounts of steam produced — which causes the 50-year-old plaster walls to sag and peel and develop bulges and boils like they’ve contracted the black plague — there’s the fact that the pipe is set at about 5’9″ and is angled downward, so the head is even lower. To get my face and hair wet, I actually have to point the nozzle upwards slightly, so droplets are regularly sent cascading over the curtain rod, landing on the walls, floor, sink, mirror, etc.

It has been brought to my attention, by my wife, that this behavior generates slipping hazards, which are a threat to myself and others. She has given me an unspecified amount of time to amend my ways, but I have been assured that, if I cannot change, penalties will be instituted at some point in the near future.

And now you’re probably wondering: how Steph can be such a battle ax? (Your words, not mine. Love you, dear.) You’re wondering, why would I put up with it?

Well people, the truth is, I like my women feisty.

Like my showers.

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November 25th, 2007

Untangling Lights

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November 25th, 2007

Virginia Mountains

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