I am preparing an assault on Mount Showerhead.
Every morning, I step into the shower, eager to for the controlled deluge to cascade over my tresses and down my back in a warm waterfall. But lately, my warm waterfall has been sorely lacking in warm water. Which can only mean one thing: it's time to soak the shower head in vinegar.
We have well water out here in paradise. It's full of healthy minerals that do double duty as miniature cloggers in the holes of the shower head. The problem is easily reversible. A fifteen-minute soak in vinegar will dissolve those mineral deposits forthwith. The monkey wrench in this procedure is the fact that I cannot get the shower head loose. It must be some kind of plumber's puzzle, a conundrum capable of rendering Val helpless in the arena of bathroom maintenance. I try to unscrew the golden knob. Lefty, loosey...righty, tighty. But it won't budge. I think I might need an actual monkey wrench.
Until Mount Showerhead is conquered, I must make do with the streams which issue forth from the source. Runnels that trickle in a shape similar to Horseshoe Falls. That would be fine and dandy if I suffered from male pattern baldness. Or if, perhaps, I was a monk who had given myself a severe trimming of my bangs. Because when I step into the shower, my back to Mount Showerhead, expecting a sprinkling of droplets like nature's own rain...I am sorely disappointed. There is no water in the center of the spray.
I've tried twisting and turning the golden grate of Mount Showerhead. With mixed results. Rogue rivulets shoot toward the ceiling, the shower door, over my head, down onto the shower floor in front of my feet, depending on how far I spin that metal dial. Hick must approach the summit with a different route. Because once I maneuver that third-rate-watering-can spout into a pattern of water flow that is acceptable, it only lasts for one shower. By the next day, it's back to the base camp. Time to formulate a new plan of attack.
Perhaps I'll pen a book-length tale of my struggle to master Mount Showerhead. I already have the title: Into Thin Hair.