Well, adversity always teaches you something. A while ago we got around to getting a guy in to fix a few things around the house. Most significantly for the purposes of this post, our shower base had a crack in it (which we had awesomely taped over with duct tape). When he quoted for the job, the fellow had some concerns that if it had been leaking into the floor, depending on the seal underneath, that removing the base might show more things that had to be dealt with. Anyway, we gave him the go ahead, little knowing that this would prompt him to immediately come in and remove the shower, thankfully revealing no underlying structural defects. However since that time, though we have a new base sitting in the kitchen (WTF?), he doesn’t actually seem in a hurry to reinstall our shower.

He has a key to pop in and do stuff while we are at work, and we keep finding new additions to the little pile of artifacts on our kitchen bench (apparently that is where handyman implements are stored). However the base still sits in the kitchen (again, WTF?) and we are still without a shower. And it is not like he has fixed the other things on our list in the meantime. It’s like he got two dot-points in and forgot his train of thought. We suspect some of this came from the fact that Hub stupidly said to him “it doesn’t have to all be done at once if that is impossible, we have a second shower”. Big mistake.

So for the last two weeks (!!) we have been using the second shower, which is in our dicky guest bathroom off the laundry. And we have discovered how wretchedly we have been torturing our guests forcing them to shower in that weak arsed tinker bell excuse for a shower (Sorry!). In the face of floods and cyclones and famine, the tragedy of having a crappy shower aren’t really that outstanding. However, I didn’t realise how much it puts a big ol raspberry in the beginning of my day to have to endure a craptastic shower. Add to that the guest bathroom is a tiny cramped affair, not at all suited to the more serious task of Main Bathrooming. This all came together in a major fail for me when I jumped into the shower before bed after having done some exercise and was a little too anxious to get out of the weak tepid water when finished my ablutions. Not known for my grace at the best of times, I put a foot wrong, hit a patch of water on the polished floor board and slipped. Without anything to grab for to rescue me from my position, I ended sprawled on the floor, sporting a fresh collection of ridiculous bruises and counting another reason to curse the damned handyman. I swear, there will come a day when I won’t be permitted to walk around my house without a climbing harness hooked to an anchor rope wherever I go.

The situation has worsened to an alarming degree. Tonight I have HIIT on the schedule which I normally do on the exercise bike at home, but I am sorely tempted to go to the gym and use their bikes, for the sole purpose of being able to use the gym showers afterwards. I have never showered at this gym before but such is the excrable nature of our guest shower that I have a blanket confidence that the gym showers simply must be better. I have a general aversion to gym showering, but I have a very specific aversion to showering in the hovel off our laundry.

My hovel could probably be improved of course by a quick trip to bunnings and a replacement shower head that would at least address the issue of the tepid and unreliable pressure. However, for a variety of reasons that isn’t practical at the moment. So it looks like I might be left hanging out waiting for a decent shower.

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