For your viewing enjoyment:A Non-Erotic Shower Story

I still don't feel like doing a full recap, so I'll stall for awhile longer with an overdue elaboration which I'd said that I would give.

So way back when, at a time when I was rambling on about some bug-related shenanigans, I mentioned about how my shower was busted up and lacked a shower-head. There is a small story which accompanies that vague statement, and that story is as follows:

It was a Saturday. It was a sunny day. It was close to 2 in the afternoon. I was waking up.

I felt my way down the hall along the wall, squinty-eyed and bursting with the joy for life which is always associated with my newly-awakened state. It should be noted that everything following the words "squinty-eyed" in that last sentence is utter nonsense. I was tired, and angry for no particular reason if not just because I now had to do things... productive things, even. Goddamn, life was tough in my sheltered Western society.

So yeah, I shuttered myself up in the bathroom, and turned on the shower-water in an effort to pre-warm the flow. You know how that is. I did the regular get-ready-to-face-the-day stuff -- such as brushing my teeth and relieving myself -- as the water ran, so that by the time I pulled the shower curtain closed behind me, the bathroom was half-full of steam. -- I guess I should explain this little part first: The bathroom in our place this summer was something of a dungeon. Not that it was cold or contained shackles (At least not that I know of... Bert?), but just because no natural light tended to enter. We had a small window in the shower portion, but our landlord had it half-covered by a board so that creepers couldn't watch us pee and cleanse ourselves. Also, said window looked out upon all the splendid scenery that under-the-fucking-deck had to offer, so all we really had was a view of webs and unpainted boards anyway.

So imagine my surprise in my angry morning state, when I looked down through the shower spray and saw a single ray of pure sunshine, sparkling through the mist of the shower. Somehow it had woven its way through the criss-crossing compilation of wooden planks and overgrown weeds, and it now found itself alone in the shower with me. Looking down at this shaft of light, shimmering as it passed through the droplets from the shower nozzle, my first thought was, "Oooooohhh! Pretty!!" Having nothing better to do, I adjusted the shower-head so that the water would spray moreso through the happy ray of sunlight. Sparkle, sparkle -- went the drops of water with their sunly sheen.

Wow. My day was getting better already. So full of possibility was this day.

So as I noted the time (so as to be able to shower at this time in days to follow), I gripped the shower-head and attempted to pull it back up and swivel it into a useful orientation for taking a shower.

But fate was not on my side, as they say in some regions where clichés are of some literary value. The shower-head was ancient-old, and the hinge with which it was attached to a board on the the wall was crapped up and uncooperative. The upward force which I'd exerted proved too much for my little shower-head, and it snapped off.

Now, all of the immense water pressure which had, up until that point, directed the flow down through my little ray of happy sunshine -- Well, now it forced that flow straight up out of the hose which extended from the faucet below. A column of water was now flying out of the hose, slamming into the cieling, and dispersing itself into the far corners of the bathroom.

I managed to get the water turned off before the place got too wet, but ideally no-wet is better than not-so-wet. I'm still kind of pissed that I busted the shower-head clean off. Though it wasn't really my fault since it was so old, I have a bad feeling that our landlord is going to try to get us to pay for the fees of getting the new one installed...

Anyway, here's a picture of our headless shower in action (with the water pressure turned waaaaay down, so as not to soak the bathroom [see above]), along with the disembodied shower-head.