After the horrific cab incident and the perfectly terrifying turd-spawn scrub-down (yes, that means you have to read my last entry), I just needed to rinse off.
I was sweaty and sticky and all I wanted was a shower.
Actually, all I wanted was an outdoor Cape Cod shower. At my friend Sarah's house.
There’s nothing quite like showering outside. It’s risqué being au natural, yet lovely being in the midst of nature. Hearing the birds chip. Seeing the squirrels leaping around the trees. The warmth of the sun on your face, the cool air.
But arguably my most favorite part of that particular outdoor shower was the pressure. The pressure!Sarah thought it was quite funny how I raved about the pressure. What an odd thing to be obsessed with. Easy for her to judge me, though. She's not the one with the poor pressure.
It’s seriously something I’ve always taken for granted. I didn’t realize how much good water pressure meant to me until it was taken away. My last few apartments all had great pressure – this one…not so much.
Don’t get me wrong – I think ya’ll know how much I love my apartment. And one of my most favorite parts about the apartment is my bathroom.
The sheer size of it (it’s fairly large for NYC). Three huge, HUGE mirrored cabinets (that are filled to the brim, obviously). Fancy Hollywood-ish light bulbs. The cutest toilet seat in the world.
The one glitch in my perfect oasis of a bathroom is the shower head.
The worst water pressure in the universe! Wimpy, woosey, half-assed streams of water just kind of…fall…out of the pipe.
It’s like a dozen or so guys got together for a pissing contest. And no one won because they were all weak.
OK, that one’s kinda gross for a simile about showering, but you catch my drift.
I don’t understand why there isn’t a shower head regulation. Why don’t they all have good pressure?
Perhaps Janet Leigh was really screaming because the shower pressure was just terrible!
Ugh. It’s so not fair. It’s so stupid. It leaves shampoo residue in your hair and soap in hard to reach places. You don’t get that Dove-soap-squeaky-clean-feeling with poor pressure.
There has to be a better way! Or else I’m moving to Cape Cod so I can use Sarah’s shower every single day.