Shower

Do you sing in the shower? Do your best thinking in the shower? Lately I’ve been thinking a lot about taking a shower. I’m about to have a knee replacement surgery and I’ve been obsessed with grab bars and shower seats and all kinds of showering assistance devices. I never realized how lucky I was to just be able to step in the shower and wash off.

Please use the open space below to share your first 50 words on the topic “shower.”

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Author: Virginia DeBolt

Writer and teacher who writes blogs about web education, writing practice, and pop culture.

5 thoughts on “Shower”

  1. When I was a child we lived in a cold-water flat with just a toilet cubicle in the hallway. There was no bathtub. There was no shower. We would heat water in huge pots on the kitchen stove. We had a deep kitchen sink with a laundry tub next to it. That’s where we were taught to clean ourselves. We knew how to heat the water. How to carry the heavy pots of warm water to the tub. And absolutely how to wash our bodies with soft washcloths and scented soap. We never missed anything. We were super duper clean. We also knew that part of the ritual was cleaning up the tub and sink afterwards. There was a small private courtyard in the rear of our house. When there was a Spring shower without lightening I would run out just to feel the rain pouring down on my body. Like a wild child I would laugh and look up into the drops of water coming down. I didn’t even care that it hurt sometimes when raindrops went into my eyes. I just loved being outside free as a bird enjoying the Spring shower. Needless to say I am a fan of taking showers with my beautiful oval bar of Chanel No. 5 soap and soft fluffy washcloth. I’m an evening shower person. I can’t think of anything better than cleansing myself of the day’s activities with wonderful soap and then drying myself with a huge white soft towel. I climb into bed with my book and it isn’t long before I’m soundly asleep with my pooch cuddled up next to my back.

  2. The food was crap at Lauren’s baby shower. I didn’t say anything about it, of course, I’m too much of a lady to complain about the food at a baby shower. But between you, me, and the lamp post, the whole thing was a very cheap affair.

  3. I never could understand what was so special about an April Shower until this one day on the golf course. I believe it was only the third hole when the sky opened up in an otherwise perfect April Spring Day. My partner and I ran for shelter in a wooden shed there we hung out just the two of us. He told me he had a surprise for me when we got back to the club house, but thought an April Shower would be perfect.

  4. Shower ! There were no shower heads . Those were things you saw in magazine advertisements and movies . To be sighed at , and drooled upon . As distant as the moon .
    Water was laboriously pulled from the well . A pulley existed, a make -shift one , with a y-fork of a large tree as the pulley , and around ten bricks for weight . And did it creak ! Heavens ! You pull up water for wash after your big job, in the depths of the night , and the whole neighbourhood knows . Creak, creak ! There was one huge metallic bucket with rope tied to its handle , which sat on the “jagat”, the round concrete circle top of the well . It made a huge splash . The gurgle , gurgle , as it filled with cool , clear water from the depths of the well . The weight of the full bucket tugged the rope , the rope tugged the pulley , and it would groan with a creak audible one mile away.

    Then you put your might to it . Heave , heave . It was an aerobics like none other . One bath and you have burnt enough calories for the day.

    As the bucket splashed , jostled and banged against the brick wall , on its journey up , half of the water was lost , in transit . In case of kids , three fourths .

  5. Showering is difficult when the handle for the head is broken. The morning routine therefore involves washing up at the sink. Still I need to reflect that I am among the very lucky ones. Not only do I have access to running water, but at my desire it comes from the faucet either warm, hot or cold. I have what billions – let me repeat that – billions on this planet don’t have. I am privileged and not by my own doing. My gratitude is radical; it urges me to reverence those who do not share my good fortune.

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