The Tale Of The Shower Head

My morning routine goes something like this.  I struggle out of my warm bed, hobble out into the kitchen, make porridge and a cup of coffee and watch the news while consuming my breakfast.  I then go and have a shower.  The routine of the shower is the same everyday.  I turn on the taps take my glasses off (something the isn't always remembered) and get in the shower.  On this occasion I did my usual routines, took my glasses off and slipped my hand round the shower curtain to test if the water would strip my skin off or cause goosebumps. As my hand groped about in the general direction of where the water would be coming out I could feel nothing.  My swooping motion got wider in an effort to reach the cascading water but still nothing, I then thought maybe I had not pulled the leaver up to make the water change direction, but this had been done.  Having no glasses on I was unable to see where the water, which I could hear, was coming out.  I then waved my hand under the taps only to feel the water coming out there. Turning off the taps I then reached for my glasses only to find out that the shower attachment had cracked and fallen off.

Standing in the bathroom trying to think of a way to mend it I suddenly remembered that a week ago I had sold a shower unit that had been installed in the garage (for reasons I don't know) and that we had taken off the shower attachment before the buyer took the shower unit away subsequently forgetting to take the shower attachment.

Optimistically I tiptoed into the garage with a towel wrapped around me, trying to avoid any dead mice or mud while searching for the attachment.  Search as I might I could not find it.  I went and asked my daughter where it went and she said that she had thrown it outside.  Frustrated I then tried to open to garage door through a carpet of spiders webs.  As it happened it was throwing it down with rain and the thought did cross my mind that maybe I should just stand outside to have a wash.  Looking around in the six foot gorse bushes that had grown over the back of the garage in a twisted mass and the weeds that were more like triffids while trying to avoid getting stuck solid into the blackberry thorns. At this point I wondered who else had to go through all this just to have a bloody shower.

Suddenly there is was half submerged in the mud.  Pulling it up out of the sticky wet mud I found my hair had welded itself into a section of the gorse bush. Ripping my hair out to free myself, which was now soaking wet, I left a clump of it behind hanging from the thorns.

Tiptoeing back into the house I fixed the shower to the taps, then found that it was shorter than the old on and would not fit in the holder.  I then couldn't move the holder down as it was stuck fast.  I stood there shaking it side to side moving it down a mm at a time until after 5 minutes it was at the right height. Triumphantly I turned on the taps, water cascaded out from the shower head and I jumped in only to find it was a sports shower head and the sudden sharp knife like jet of water hit my body with such force I was expecting to find my nipples laying on the floor.  Squealing in pain I fiddled with the shower head trying to turn it to a more pleasant flow.

Finally I managed a nice warm shower and was able to start my day. I'm still wondering if anyone else ever has to go through all this just to have a shower.

Just a bit more fun from the Funny Farm.