I love my shower. I do. In high school, I used to get yelled at on a nearly nightly basis for taking showers that were deemed “too long.” What were you doing in there? my parents would ask.
I was warming up (in the winter) or cooling off (in the summer). I was washing away the stress of my day. I was also washing my D.Ross-sized afro–that took time people! I was shaving. I was practicing my songs for the musical senior year. I was practicing Britney Spears’ songs for the drive to school the next day. And one time, after a particularly rough night at work, I recall crying.
And all of that took time. The shower was the one place where no one would bother me. No one was knocking on the door (well except for the one time when a boy I had a really big crush on and was waiting for a call from finally DID call me). No one was dropping by to check what I was watching or reading or doing. The only real issue I ever faced was after the shower, when I would plod downstairs in my sweat pants, all shiny and clean, and someone would tell me my shower was too long and I needed to watch it.
In college, I had my favorite shower stalls. The one on the end was too drafty. The one in the middle never got hot enough. But the second one in, oh man, it was the best. Great pressure. Always hot. Luckily for me, my best friend Cait always liked the third shower in (we had a bank of 5). This way we never had to fight for the shower. And when we came home from a party, we could both shower and make sure the other didn’t pass out in the shower next to us. Drunk showers are awesome.
Uh, anyway, I digress.
Then, that same year, there was a disturbance in my showering paradise. I walked into the bathroom one night to brush my teeth and I saw 2 sets of feet. TWO. This was disconcerting to me. I don’t care what you do in your own time and your own bathroom, but when I’m trying to shower before class, I don’t really want to hear people canoodling in the stall next to me. And sure, the excuse was made that since they were both of the same sex, it was okay, but it’s still something better saved for off-campus living.
I moved out of the dorms the next year, into an apartment with 5 girls, myself included. That is a lot of girls. This wasn’t all terrible though, because there were 2 showers in that apartment. And 2 tubs. And I love baths and I missed them during my dorm years. Then I learned the most disturbing and, to this day, nauseating thing I could have ever found out. One of my roommates was peeing in the shower. Let me say that again. SHE WAS PEEING IN THE SHOWER! Because apparently the 30 seconds it took to sit on the toilet and pee before the shower was too much for her. It took too much time out of her day. When she told me and I (rightfully) freaked out, her excuse was “well it’s always while I wash my hair so the soap rinses it out.” One of our other roommates backed her up. I was shocked and disgusted. If you want to piss in your own shower, go right ahead. But when you share w/other people, some of whom don’t always Lysol the tub before they take a bath (which, btw, I ALWAYS do now because I’ve been permanently scarred) have some courtesy. Put the warning out there at the beginning of the year (at the VERY least) so they can at least be warned and pull out their dorm shower flip flops to avoid stepping in your bodily fluids. The thought of excreting foul things into something thats sole purpose is to clean you off is beyond me.
But again, I digress.
Senior year I had one rule when it came to the shower: Don’t pee in it. And if you do, don’t EVER tell me. Things were fine. I kept that same rule in my current apartment and again, no issues.
The thing that has held all of these showers together for me though, the thing that makes a shower worth taking, is the water pressure. A shower head is a tricky creature–get the right one, and your shower is a glorious place. A good, pounding pressure, that’s what you need. Get the wrong shower head though, and it’s a chore. Standing there, rinsing your hair for 5 minutes–a process that used to take under a minute. All because your shower head doesn’t provide enough oomph anymore.
Now I realize that this is all because of the environment or some crap like that. But truth be told, all this does is make me cranky and force me take a longer shower. This is this situation at Boo’s apartment. I hate his shower. I’m sorry to say it, but it sucks. It’s a very wussy shower head and the water never really heats up. If it, by some miracle, does get hot, it doesn’t last. But then I come home. And I relish my next shower. Because I’ve just seen what it could be. And let me tell you, I am in LOVE with the shower head in my apartment.
Well, I was in love with the shower head in my apartment. It was powerful and awesome. There was one stream of water that always used to hit my shoulder blades just right–perfect after work. Until it exploded. It started shooting water everywhere. It flooded Rachel. It was a sad, sad day. And of course, it was a Friday. So until we could call maintenance, we ran the shower on half water pressure, with the nozzle at a weird angle. We called this week and they finally came up to fix it.
But they didn’t fix it. Oh no. They replaced it. And now, instead of my amazing, power pressure shower head, I have a nice, kinda decent mostly okay pressure, even-flow shower head. It’s got evenly distributed nozzles instead of nozzles of varying size.
It’s probably good for the environment or some crap.
As far as I (and roomie) are concerned, all it’s good for is making us cranky and forcing us take longer showers.
And trust me, you won’t like us if we’re cranky.