CJDaily's Blog

July 12, 2010

Splish-splash.

Filed under: Uncategorized — cjdaily @ 8:46 pm

Last weekend was hot.  I’m not going to abuse every adjective known to man to describe just how hot it really was, but if you were on the east coast, you know what I’m talking about.  Annabelle was ok with it, since she was permanently planted in her new pool, a blow-up situation with an elephant shaped slide, but Jesse and I were melting into the grass.  The stone house doesn’t have air conditioning, so we have fans in every window, but honestly, unless you’re going to lay on your back on the floor in front of one, you’re gonna be warm.  Which is fine with me.  Really.  Because at the end of the day, if you’re feeling really gross, you can just jump in the shower and rinse off, right?

No.  Not at our house.  Because I think I told you about the maroon atrocity that was the single bathroom in the whole house, yes?  The crumbling tiles, the holes in the floor, the bubbling, painted-over caulk?  It was like something out of a Saw film, and Jesse demolished the whole thing to start from scratch.  Everything in this bathroom needed to go, right down to the walls, floor, and ceiling.  So 3 weeks ago Jesse had it all down to bare bones, and put in a new toilet and laid a new floor.  It was a husk of a room, with a potty in it.  The plumbing for the new bathtub, however, was going to take a little more time, and until 2 days ago, there was no way to take a bath or shower in the house. 

Now, I’m only there on the weekends, so my solution was to shower before I headed down on Friday nights, steal a shower at my sister’s house on Saturdays, and wash my hair in the sink Sunday morning.  Jesse was on a similar routine, showering at his parents house before work, and hosing himself down under the apple tree at midnight when the going got really rough.  But last weekend, my sister wasn’t home, it was over 100 degrees out, and I am too big to fit into the kitchen sink, which I was contemplating.  I was hot, I was sweaty, I was desperate for a bath. 

I would have gotten into the “elephant cool,” as Belle calls her little pool, but it was full of grass clippings, and I’m pretty sure she pees in it, despite our spasmodic potty-training successes, so it would have been counter-productive.  I had just put her down for a nap, and Jesse and I were in the kitchen, sweating and whining. 

“Honey,” I cajoled him, “I will give you anything you want if you can get the bathtub to work.”

“The pipes don’t fit yet.  I have to get my dad over here to… (jargon I didn’t quite understand, etc.)”

“Access to my meager bank account?  Personal slaveitude?  Anything.”

“I could spray you down with the hose,” he shrugged.

I laughed.  Then stopped.  Then raced for my bathing suit.

Five minutes later I am in the yard, shrieking under a spray of almost unbearably cold hose-water.  Dog-walkers and stroller-pushing neighbors alike had the benefit of seeing both Jesse and I shivering in our bathing suits, taking turns spraying each-other, while gasping and pleading with each other to stop.  I’m sure the sight of me standing in the yard shampooing my hair made for some good neighborhood gossip, but at that moment it was heaven.  My scalp started to go numb, it was so cold, but I felt clean.  White trash, but clean.

So when I arrived at the house last Friday, Jesse and his dad were just finishing the complicated jargon that made the tub work.  And it works!  We now officially have running water in the tub!  No shower-head yet, but that first bath in the new tub–our adorable white claw-foot tub–was positively decadent.  Being clean all over at once it not a luxury I will take for granted again any time soon.  Nor will I discount the pleasure of shampooing in private, rather than out in the yard, whilst waving to passersby.

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