Thursday, July 22, 2010

Chelle VS The Shower (The Shower Won)


Hit the wall (and a few other things). No gym last night. Decided not to fight it, so instead I put on a cute top, freshened my lipstick (well, I would have if I wore any), and tagged along to the bowling alley. Had fun just hanging out and doing a bit of reading, then came home and had some low-fat cottage cheese (I didn't have anything but a couple mini pretzels & water at the bowling alley), then went to bed. Today is a fresh new day, and I'm excited about hitting the gym.

That comment I made about hitting the wall and a few other things? If this isn't classic Chelle, I don't know what is. Let me begin where all good stories do... at the beginning.

Two days ago, I am taking a shower. Bill has already left for the office, the dog has claimed my space on the bed, and I'm looking forward to some much needed exfoliation. I'm scrubbing up (I LOVE my sugar scrub) then reach up to grab the sprayer to rinse off... SNAP! The handheld shower head breaks clean off and I stand stunned as water hurtles (who knew we had such great water pressure!?) over the shower and onto my clothing laid out for the day (and the window, and the curtain, and...). I frantically grab for the wriggling hose, spraying myself full in the face. I now have water, sugar and coconut oil in my eyes as I continue to fight for control over this living water-monster in my shower. Finally, all is under control, I've managed to rinse off, shut down the water, and towel myself dry. I calmly send a text message to my husband that we need a new shower head. We agree I will pick one up on Friday, as surely we can manage until then, right? Of course. NOT. 

Today. I am taking a shower (I like to do this occasionally, as it makes me a better smelling person, with whom people do not object to being in the same room with, lol). I think I am managing quite well with the hose (despite truly awesome water pressure) and I lean over to spray [read: hose down] my back. As I come back up, I (who never do things by halves) slam the back of my head into the bottom of the shower door handle. Slam, people. Tweeting birds and circling stars. Oh, and blood. Next thing, I am sitting on the floor of the shower, vaguely wondering how I got there and who is pointing a fire hose in my face.

My (clearly not as thick as I thought) skull and I will be going to Home Depot on my lunch break. 

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