A Fly By Night Post...
A lot has been going on here in CowTown, mostly in the form of not showering and finding a way for us to resume our regularly planned showering activities.
I'm not sure exactly what it was that led to the death of our thirty + year old shower; however, it met its end and was escorted out of our home in a somewhat less than dignified fashion.
The trials and tribulations we've faced in trying to obtain a new shower that will fit into our 160 + year old farmhouse have been of great magnitude. It exhausts me to even think of the professionals we've called, the decisions we've been forced against our will to make, the bloodshed and the tears that we have all endured.
We have made numerous trips to the Big City in my dad's (not so) Trusty Pickup. We've gone to fancy shower stores and regular shower stores; we've dealt with helpful shower salesmen and not-so helpful salesmen.
Our first shower experience was not a good one, and as we tried our mightiest to bring a shower home and wedge it up the stairs of our old house, we gauged out the panelling on the walls and gave up in a fit of rage and unshowered misery.
To experience a fit of rage and misery is one thing. To experience a fit of rage and UNSHOWERED misery? Let me tell you, that is misery on a whole new level.
We've successfuly brought home a shower today, successfully taken it apart and brought it to the second story of our beloved house. Tomorrow is the big test, the test to see if we can actually get this mass of fibreglass and piping to turn into somethig suitable for modern day body-washing.
May the Gods of hygiene smile down upon us from their freshly showered heavens and grant us the ability to resume normally functioning hygenic practices once more.
I'm not sure exactly what it was that led to the death of our thirty + year old shower; however, it met its end and was escorted out of our home in a somewhat less than dignified fashion.
The trials and tribulations we've faced in trying to obtain a new shower that will fit into our 160 + year old farmhouse have been of great magnitude. It exhausts me to even think of the professionals we've called, the decisions we've been forced against our will to make, the bloodshed and the tears that we have all endured.
We have made numerous trips to the Big City in my dad's (not so) Trusty Pickup. We've gone to fancy shower stores and regular shower stores; we've dealt with helpful shower salesmen and not-so helpful salesmen.
Our first shower experience was not a good one, and as we tried our mightiest to bring a shower home and wedge it up the stairs of our old house, we gauged out the panelling on the walls and gave up in a fit of rage and unshowered misery.
To experience a fit of rage and misery is one thing. To experience a fit of rage and UNSHOWERED misery? Let me tell you, that is misery on a whole new level.
We've successfuly brought home a shower today, successfully taken it apart and brought it to the second story of our beloved house. Tomorrow is the big test, the test to see if we can actually get this mass of fibreglass and piping to turn into somethig suitable for modern day body-washing.
May the Gods of hygiene smile down upon us from their freshly showered heavens and grant us the ability to resume normally functioning hygenic practices once more.
posted by Amanda at 20:59
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