of the new house is a lack of bathtub. There is one bathroom and it has one heavily tiled shower.
I hate taking showers.
I hate water dripping in my face, I hate trying to keep the wet shower curtain from touching me while shaving the backs of my calves, I hate the steamy feeling. I hate water in my ears. Add in that we now have well water, and it's doubly insulting to be subjected to a shower.
It smells oddly and does strange things to my hair. One time, my hair dries just fine. It's clean and fantastic. The next, it feels coated and as if I never washed it. Forget styling it--I just try to minimize the oddness of it.
Melody is with me on this one.
In fact, the first Thursday night after getting into the house, I was trying to get kids ready for bed and asked her when her last shower was. Her answer? "There wasn't one."
We'd been in the house since the Friday before.
Dixie, ever the opposite, begs daily for showers. On church nights, when there is no time, she pouts and stomps. At 4 in the afternoon, she will start asking, "Is it bedtime yet? Can I get ready for bed now?"
Dowlan's brilliant solution to Mel's refusal is a large orange washtub in the floor of the shower, that he fills for her to bathe in.
Unfortunately, I don't fit.