I don't know why these things happen so often in my life. Seriously, all I wanted was a nice, hot shower. I had set aside a time for a high quality cleansing after searching for employment online, making breakfast, and getting the Honda's oil changed. The entire afternoon was clear for face to face job searches and maybe a hamburger or two at the local drive thru. I was completely giddy about how smoothly my day was sure to sail.
With a brand new bar of soap, my shampoo and conditioner bottles opened, and my towel positioned just so and at the ready, I turned on the water and dialed in precisely the right pressure and temperature, and went for it.
The water was really blasting nicely; in no time I was already past the hair detail and on to scrubbing my ears. That's no easy job, considering all of those contours and taking into account that one simply must be careful to rinse out the soap without turning too many degrees toward the shower head. Otherwise, you'll be listening to the mellow sounds of sloshing until the weekend, and going crazy because of all of the water you've impacted around your hammer, anvil, and stirrup.
Boy, was I relieved once I finished scrubbing the head and shoulder section. That's because, once I begin on the trunk section I can really make up for lost time. I fact, I even have time to double-wash the armpit sections, which always adds that extra bit of insurance in case I missed a spot going over that potentially lethal area.
I suppose most people merely hop in the tub and scrub away for five or ten minutes. I take a different approach. I've always loved watching race cars being assembled. Depending on the type of race, the car is built specifically for that purpose. So it is with me and my antibacterial hygiene regime; if I'm not going to be around anyone, I'll merely jump in and slop a little soap here and there. I feel grimy, and even a little guilty about it, but what the heck.
On the other hand, if I have an important meeting or if I'm going to meet a friend for a social engagement, I'll spare no effort in making sure that everything is scrubbed, one section at a time, and thoroughly. The face must be free of any oily feeling. The shoulders are washed with the arms as one unit. Then the obliques and back are scrubbed as a separate unit. The chest and stomach are washed as the next sub-assembly. Finally, I rub the bar of soap all the way around the sides, front, and back, in a motion replicating the zigzag stripe on Charlie Brown's shirt. Only in this manner can I tie all of the sub-assemblies together and move on to finishing my shower, addressing each remaining section and its sub-assemblies.
(I really need to trademark this next sentence.) And then it happened.
Halfway into "lean to" position (characterized by putting my right foot on the tub rim in order to wash the back of my thigh), I made the rookie mistake of not watching what I was doing. As my foot came down, it put too much pressure on the shower curtain, pulling the support bar from the wall and sending curtain hooks everywhere, including the doorway to the kitchen. I think that was due to a ricochet. I confess to saying something rather unpleasant immediately before shutting off the water and feeling like I had been suddenly tossed onto Iceland. What made me mad was that I'd have to towel off before rebuilding the shower curtain assembly. Specifically, I'd have to reuse the towel, which was now almost soaking from almost half a gallon of water directed onto it which would otherwise have been deflected from the curtain.
I'd also have to use the hand towel to mop up the remaining two gallons on the bathroom floor, thereby moving up laundry day. And I'd have to raise the thermostat to "The Electric Company Loves You, Rob" in order to avoid catching a cold twenty minutes before heading out to another round of rejections.
Yet, it all worked out as controlled chaos always does in the long run. The floor, which is linoleum, would dry from the heat. I'd cut back on McDonald's for a couple of months in order to pay the increased electric bill. As long as I was going to wash my towels, I'd finally have an excuse to wash the five shirts sitting in the corner of my bedroom since July. The shower curtain, which I had initially and mistakenly installed backwards, was finally righted. All of this was done within ten minutes.
I was thankful for that, because if an impromptu job interview popped up I would have expounded on my excellent time management skills, also known as using bad language and panicking while freezing. Sometimes we experience one thing which makes the day a bad one.
It was curtains for me.