There’s something in the air this week with my apartment. And not just meth fumes and strange candles. I got a new shower curtain earlier in the week. Today, a custom pillowcase arrived. Also, a couple of photo magnets that I put on the inside of the metal front door. The pillowcase is similar to my curtain except with more pictures.
Not to be outdone by the fiercely competitive Jessica, Erika bought me a showerhead as a gift. The one installed in this apartment was installed in ’79. 1979, I hope. I can’t be sure. It may have had bloodstains or demonic etchings on it. Erika suffered the same indignity when she moved into this building thirty-two years ago. Everything was original and not in the excellent way that home-buying shows use the word. The National Historical Society almost decreed we couldn’t change out any of the fixtures due to their historical significance. George Washington may well have showered using those same showerheads.
The showerhead is an AquaDance, “…for the ultimate shower experience.” It sounds iffy, doesn’t it? First, there’s implied dancing on a slippery surface, an activity strongly discouraged by the AARP. Second, the word “ultimate” literally means “last.” I hope it is contradictory yet flowery marketing at work here.
Erika swears that this two-head detachable piece of bling is the best out there for the money. She even printed out instructions written by someone who wanted everyone to have the best installation experience possible. It’s apparent that she’s aware of my propensity toward imbecility. I don’t fault her for it.
Given my track record, I will attempt to be cautious when installing it. I’d rather not be the inspiration for the “Final Destination” reboot. Living in this apartment complex already has me a little bit worried. At any rate, once my neighbors realize that I am using my move as the basis for a lot of snark and satire, they may well acquire pitchforks and march over here.
In some ways, I’m going to miss taking spartan showers. I’ve always loved cool or cold showers, and doubly so when the equipment is impossible to use safely. The water heater and the shower installed as I found it when I moved here assist greatly in realizing these goals.
This new showerhead may well spoil me. Soon enough, I’ll be eating shaved cheese and sporting a goatee. The current showerhead I’m using shoots water randomly, almost maliciously. I’m going to miss it, as it reminds me of my mom’s parenting style.
Anyway, thank you, Erika. I suspect you may have bought this for me so that you and the other neighbors won’t hear so much screaming when I try to use the shower as intended.
I’ll be Aquadancing in luxurious comfort and style.
Also, this might be the most valuable thing in my apartment.
It’s a good thing I have renter’s insurance.
I love joking at the expense of this apartment complex. Anyone reading my stories knows that there are a lot of advantages to living here. No amenities, just advantages.
That’s an excellent metaphor for a simple life. I don’t need much, especially if I remember that almost everything essential to happiness is invisible. I live in my head, not in this place. I’m grateful for both. Nothing is certain.