Friday, Aug. 30, 2002
Dear Diary:

In theory a home is not sentient.

In theory.

But I'm starting to believe that our home is very aware because nothing ever breaks around here until the spousal unit, The Person Who Knows How To Fix Everything, leaves.

For Exhibit A, I give you this morning.

*Cue Twilight Zone theme here*

I was in the shower happily loading my freshly-washed hair with gooey cream rinse when the spousal unit popped his head into the bathroom to say he was off to work.

As we said our good-byes, the hand held shower mounted on up on the wall was sending a steady stream of hot water. As his footsteps receded, I began soaping up. I heard the click of the front door, and then the sound of his truck engine turning over. A few seconds passed.

The house was making him sure he was gone.

Then, abruptly, the water pressure in the shower dropped in half.

I rinsed my face and looked up at the nozzle and to my horror saw that the hose had cracked just below the showerhead and was sending a sizable stream down the wooden wall of our bathroom. I cut the water off.

Covered with soap, my hair a mass of gooey cream rinse, I mopped up the water and pondered my next move. I had a Eureka moment when I remembered that we had an emergency back-up hose that came when we replaced the shower head.

I snickered at the house's feeble attempts to spoil my morning. I got the emergency back up hose, replaced the defective hose and went to remount the shower head and ...

The emergency back up hose is about eight inches shorter than our original hose. I can't mount it on the wall bracket. It won't reach.

Fine.

Now it's one thing to take a shower standing under a shower nozzle with both hands free. Rinsing hair, cleaning body is very simple. It's a whole other experience to take a shower where you're wrestling with a hand held nozzle and trying to remember to not hold it at an angle where it will shoot water up and over the shower curtain and on to the bathroom floor.

Not that I'm admitting that I'm so clumsy that even a simple task such as holding a shower nozzle properly is beyond me.

And besides, the bathroom floor probably needed a mopping anyway, right?

Oh be quiet.

--Marn

Old Drivel - New Drivel


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Want to delve into my sordid past?
She's mellllllllllllllting - Wednesday, Feb. 15, 2012 - Back off, Buble - Monday, Dec. 19, 2011 - Dispersed - Monday, Nov. 28, 2011 - Nothing comes for free - Monday, Nov. 21, 2011 - None of her business - Friday, Nov. 04, 2011 -


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This template is a riff on a design by the truly talented Quinn. Because I'm a html 'tard, I got alot of pity coding to modify it from Ms. Kittay, a woman who can make html roll over, beg, and bring her her slippers. The logo goodness comes from the God of Graphics, the Fuhrer of Fonts, the one, the only El Presidente. I smooch you all. The background image is part of a painting called Higher Calling by Carter Goodrich which graced the cover of the Aug. 3, 1998 issue of The New Yorker Magazine.

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2000, 2001, 2002 Marn. This is me, dagnabbit. You be you.