My mother used to have a wonderful shower. Moveable shower hose with adjustable flow, double curtains, soft water and unlimited heat.
It developed problems and my handy nephew fixed it. “Fixed it.” He replaced the faucet, which now does not turn all the way to hot and only has one flow setting: Fire Hose.
Some people enjoy a good hard spray. They find it invigorating. I am not one of these people and now my skin hurts, damn it.
She also used to keep the most luxuriant body lotion in here. One shot of it would coat both my legs and keep them soft for days. Now all I find is hair dye, a bottle of ‘Windsong’ body spray that has been here nearly 30 years and a quart of Skin So Soft. Yes, I know SSS is a bath oil but in my mind I now smell like bug spray on Christmas.
This is her bathroom and I am just a guest. My level of expectations verge on “Spoiled Princess”. I am sure the Buddha is chuckling and my Dad has an ethereal eyebrow raised. I’ll survive a cool shower on Christmas Day but my expectations will not. And I might see what Windsong smells like. I suspect it smells like 1995.
Ooo! Mom has a curling iron and I just washed my hair…