Tuesday, 12 February 2013

Why I hate showers

Showers and I just do not get along.
As an item, we're clearly all wrong,
And even the simplest I've used,
Has left me completely bemused.
The shower head is often too high:
Can't reach it and daren't even try.
For some's needs it may be compliant -
For example, an eight foot tall giant.

I quake at the numerous knobs,
Designed to do who knows what jobs,
(And there'll be at least one on the wall
That appears to do nothing at all).
So the question is, "Which one to twiddle?
Top, bottom, left, right or middle?"
Will the system prove horribly fickle?
Will the water come gushing - or trickle?

Small cubicles prompt the most fear,
As they give you no room to stand clear.
Another thing not to be trusted
Is the way that the heat is adjusted.
From what shall I soon be recoiling?
From water so hot that it's boiling?
Or from water that's so cold it's icy?
These prospects both seem rather dicey.

For warm water I need some of each,
But the knobs are not easy to reach.
To access them (this is the worst),
You have to get in - naked - first.
No idea now of what might be coming,
Am exposed to the mercies of plumbing.
I venture, in fear more than hope,
To discover I can't find the soap.

It was on a small metal tray,
But escaped and has skidded away.
It is proving elusive to find:
Streaming water has made me half-blind.
It's no fun, all this sliding and stumbling,
As with tightly closed eyes I go fumbling...
At last, we arrive at Stage Two,
But first must locate the shampoo.

Then (hurrah) I am back on dry land,
And trust a warm towel is to hand,
By where I have been unconvinced,
Quite clean although only half-rinsed.
For performing one's routine ablutions,
There have to be better solutions.
I like to relax...mull...or read.
A lovely deep bath's what I need.

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