Remembrance of Shower Heads Past
Okay, I know that, grand scheme, this isn't that big of a deal but still...
My landlord took my shower head away.
I mean, he put another one in it's place; we don't have just a broken pipe jutting from the wall offering a weak trickle of lukewarm water like we were in a third-world prison or France or anything. But it's not the same. See, the one we had... and I find it hard to speak of it without weeping... was truly the valedictorian of shower heads. It boasted a mighty flow, a cattle stampede made of water, and it's spray was focused and direct like an interrogation. Absolutely a marvel of modern technology.
Apparently, though, the shower head was a bit cavalier with it's water expulsion. We were draining lakes bone-dry all over the tri-state area every time we took a quick cooling-off rinse and our morning showers caused a draught all along the Eastern Seaboard.
So it had to go. Me handcuffing myself to it was no deterrent.
The one we have now pales in comparison. It's like that femme, artsy cousin you have that always tries to help you move furniture but exhausts quickly and has to go sit under a shade tree and so he can fan himself with a copy of Mademoiselle. The new shower head is well-meaning, sure, but it gives one the sensation that they're being peed on by a very tall man.
Not ideal.
This all brings to mind the most perfect shower experience I've ever had... I was living in Austin, TX; my first apartment. The shower we (my roommate, Joel, and I) had would be illegal in today's enviro-conscious world. That fucker could strip paint off a car. It dispensed hurricanes out of it's tap and it was perfect for waking you up in the morning and knocking hangovers back to the hell from whence they came.
Ah, the memories. The wet, wet memories.
My landlord took my shower head away.
I mean, he put another one in it's place; we don't have just a broken pipe jutting from the wall offering a weak trickle of lukewarm water like we were in a third-world prison or France or anything. But it's not the same. See, the one we had... and I find it hard to speak of it without weeping... was truly the valedictorian of shower heads. It boasted a mighty flow, a cattle stampede made of water, and it's spray was focused and direct like an interrogation. Absolutely a marvel of modern technology.
Apparently, though, the shower head was a bit cavalier with it's water expulsion. We were draining lakes bone-dry all over the tri-state area every time we took a quick cooling-off rinse and our morning showers caused a draught all along the Eastern Seaboard.
So it had to go. Me handcuffing myself to it was no deterrent.
The one we have now pales in comparison. It's like that femme, artsy cousin you have that always tries to help you move furniture but exhausts quickly and has to go sit under a shade tree and so he can fan himself with a copy of Mademoiselle. The new shower head is well-meaning, sure, but it gives one the sensation that they're being peed on by a very tall man.
Not ideal.
This all brings to mind the most perfect shower experience I've ever had... I was living in Austin, TX; my first apartment. The shower we (my roommate, Joel, and I) had would be illegal in today's enviro-conscious world. That fucker could strip paint off a car. It dispensed hurricanes out of it's tap and it was perfect for waking you up in the morning and knocking hangovers back to the hell from whence they came.
Ah, the memories. The wet, wet memories.
posted by Clinton at 10:35 AM
3 Comments:
Not the low-flow!! When I lived in Astoria, we started off with a fine, powerful showerhead with strong water pressure, so you could get a nice quick efficient shower. But then, when doing some maintenance, the super replaced the showerhead with a new, weak one that could barely get the shampoo out of your hair. And he actually thought he was doing us a favor, that we'd prefer no water pressure over GOOD water pressure. Why was I never consulted first? Why????
I do empathize with the lack of water pressure in a shower. In my long friendship with one Eli Jordan, I have had the good fortune to have to take a shower in his guest bathroom. Easily the greatest shower in the universe. I'm pretty sure you dont even need to use soap. It just takes the dirty layer of skin clean off. Unfortunately, I'm not sure I'm close enough to him to drive over there every morning for my pre work sand blast.
See, that's why you've got to steal his keys, copy them, and sneak in when he's away at work.
C'mon, man... this a good shower we're talking about! Obviously there's going to have to be some planning.
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