Guess what! My shower only shoots out lukewarm water! Fuck yeah!
I found this out on Saturday, which was the first full day I spent in my new (and now snazzily-painted) room at the Pearl Street Cooperative. Before I tried taking that shower, various attempts to run hot water in the faucet were unsuccessful, so I was already aware that everything wasn't precisely as it should be. Like a smart little male, I turned the shower on to its highest setting without actually getting in, and much as I expected, the water that flowed out was cold. Satisfied in having protected myself from hypothermia, I let the water continue running while I performed various mundane tasks on my computer. I checked back from time to time, noting little if any change in water temperature until finally there was a breakthrough. On the fourteenth or fifteenth test, the water proved to be warmer than my hand! I happily disrobed and jumped in.
As I turned the water towards my outstretched head to prepare for shampooing, I noticed something rather strange. Contrary to expectations, this water was cold. I hurriedly withdrew and looked at the showerhead with what was perhaps the most profound expression of betrayal ever to adorn my face. I sat there for a few seconds considering my options, which seemed constrained to: get out now and dry off and find some way to clean yourself later or just fight through the cold. I chose the latter, and I can hardly convey how miserable it was. In a room that was already colder than I liked, I had to wash my hair under a flaccid stream of barely-heated water. Yes, the stream was flaccid. I'd noticed that the water pressure was not particularly strong before I got in the shower, but such things are but mere annoyances when one has the immense luxury of hot water. As you can probably imagine, it was more than a mere annoyance then.
By the time I was to scrub the shampoo out of my hair, I was already shivering. Consequently, I didn't do a terribly good job washing it all out, which meant I got to experience the lovely feeling of my conditioner mixing in with the remnants of soggy shampoo and creating a mess on the top of my head (yes, I had to condition my hair--it's completely gross and unmanageable unless I do). Then I had to dance to keep warm while I tried to lather myself up while trying to avoid touching the water as much as possible. My muscles involuntarily tensed and relaxed to try to create a little bit more warmth for my poor body, and the whole affair was miserable. Rinsing off was also great fun, because it meant dancing under the trickling water while scrubbing vigorously to try to get all the soap off. I wasn't wholly successful in that endeavor, but at that point I didn't give a rat's ass, and I leapt out of the shower, dripping all over the place as I tried to dry my quivering self off.
I resolved after that that I would never take another shower in there until the hot water was restored.
Now, guess what I just did!
Good guess. On Sunday and Monday, I took showers at the house of our family friends, who happily sheltered me as I explained the horrors I was being subjected to in my bathroom. But then they took me back here, because I had class at 8AM today--or at least I was supposed to. Shortly after I got back, a news bulletin popped up, informing everyone that the university was to be closed Tuesday due to inclement weather (temperatures just below freezing, some ice, some snow--fucking babies). This meant that my plan to, if all else failed, shower at the UT gym was now null and void. So I reluctantly checked out my shower again. After running for a few minutes, this time I was able to detect water that definitely felt warmer than I remembered it being the last time I showered. So I went in, resolute.
I came out cursing and shivering.
But at least the wall my desk is against is now bright red. Now I just need to do something about the ominous yellow streaks on the white wall next to my bed. And the hot water.
Hasta la byebye, kids! I'm off to try to remember what warmth feels like!
P.S. You're right, Eric. I'm not sure how I made the error, since Sinclair Lewis's name is in large red letters on the front cover. Oh well--now all I have to do is finish it.
I found this out on Saturday, which was the first full day I spent in my new (and now snazzily-painted) room at the Pearl Street Cooperative. Before I tried taking that shower, various attempts to run hot water in the faucet were unsuccessful, so I was already aware that everything wasn't precisely as it should be. Like a smart little male, I turned the shower on to its highest setting without actually getting in, and much as I expected, the water that flowed out was cold. Satisfied in having protected myself from hypothermia, I let the water continue running while I performed various mundane tasks on my computer. I checked back from time to time, noting little if any change in water temperature until finally there was a breakthrough. On the fourteenth or fifteenth test, the water proved to be warmer than my hand! I happily disrobed and jumped in.
As I turned the water towards my outstretched head to prepare for shampooing, I noticed something rather strange. Contrary to expectations, this water was cold. I hurriedly withdrew and looked at the showerhead with what was perhaps the most profound expression of betrayal ever to adorn my face. I sat there for a few seconds considering my options, which seemed constrained to: get out now and dry off and find some way to clean yourself later or just fight through the cold. I chose the latter, and I can hardly convey how miserable it was. In a room that was already colder than I liked, I had to wash my hair under a flaccid stream of barely-heated water. Yes, the stream was flaccid. I'd noticed that the water pressure was not particularly strong before I got in the shower, but such things are but mere annoyances when one has the immense luxury of hot water. As you can probably imagine, it was more than a mere annoyance then.
By the time I was to scrub the shampoo out of my hair, I was already shivering. Consequently, I didn't do a terribly good job washing it all out, which meant I got to experience the lovely feeling of my conditioner mixing in with the remnants of soggy shampoo and creating a mess on the top of my head (yes, I had to condition my hair--it's completely gross and unmanageable unless I do). Then I had to dance to keep warm while I tried to lather myself up while trying to avoid touching the water as much as possible. My muscles involuntarily tensed and relaxed to try to create a little bit more warmth for my poor body, and the whole affair was miserable. Rinsing off was also great fun, because it meant dancing under the trickling water while scrubbing vigorously to try to get all the soap off. I wasn't wholly successful in that endeavor, but at that point I didn't give a rat's ass, and I leapt out of the shower, dripping all over the place as I tried to dry my quivering self off.
I resolved after that that I would never take another shower in there until the hot water was restored.
Now, guess what I just did!
Good guess. On Sunday and Monday, I took showers at the house of our family friends, who happily sheltered me as I explained the horrors I was being subjected to in my bathroom. But then they took me back here, because I had class at 8AM today--or at least I was supposed to. Shortly after I got back, a news bulletin popped up, informing everyone that the university was to be closed Tuesday due to inclement weather (temperatures just below freezing, some ice, some snow--fucking babies). This meant that my plan to, if all else failed, shower at the UT gym was now null and void. So I reluctantly checked out my shower again. After running for a few minutes, this time I was able to detect water that definitely felt warmer than I remembered it being the last time I showered. So I went in, resolute.
I came out cursing and shivering.
But at least the wall my desk is against is now bright red. Now I just need to do something about the ominous yellow streaks on the white wall next to my bed. And the hot water.
Hasta la byebye, kids! I'm off to try to remember what warmth feels like!
P.S. You're right, Eric. I'm not sure how I made the error, since Sinclair Lewis's name is in large red letters on the front cover. Oh well--now all I have to do is finish it.
1 Comments:
At 19 January, 2007 11:09,
Anonymous said…
Was that detailed account of your shower for my benefit, or do you just no longer have any boundaries? :-p
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