Rod-4; Laurel-1

My sweet sister cheered on my success with the comment, "Camaranos always win!" Not this chica. At least, not yet. I had to laugh at my sister's comment because the rod had just fallen for the third time.

Okay, so have you ever feared taking a shower? I am starting to get there. I am beginning to "plan" my days around when I'll have time to remount the rod before taking a shower. I have even started considering showering at the Y in lieu of using the shower at my rental.

So, here is the big picture. The century old house has one bathroom on the main floor. As mentioned earlier, it is minuscule, thus, at times I feel like an indoor cat turning around in a litter box trying to place myself just so for whatever task is next.

To shower---Lean over the sink to turn on the faucet. Pull back the shower curtain without putting any sense of pressure on the rod, attempting to convince the troublesome tube that no effort will be required of it. Step on the tiny plot of floor between the commode and the tub in order to strategically climb into the tub without spraying the room or ending up in the porcelain throne. And then... there is the entire war with dual shower curtains during the showering process. The flimsy yellow shower curtain against the wall protects the wood of the window. The white curtain in the foreground protects the rest of the bathroom. While the shower head emits the water, a whirlwind ensues and the curtains pull to center, attaching themselves to wet skin like hair on a staticky balloon. Again, like a furry creature rotating to find a perfect placement, I twirl to rinse, again to add soap, then to rinse all the while batting away determined plastic sheets hindering the entire process.

To brush teeth---Plant my feet on the rectangle of linoleum between the commode and sink, making sure I step away from the cabinet door so the toothpaste can be reached. Bend over to eliminate the building foam, careful not to lose balance due to calves rubbing on the toilet.

To use the facilities---Make sure the seat is up, which is perpetually closed due to the fear of something ending up in the eau de toilette. Place feet shoulder width apart prior to rising. Lean on the edge of the tub to prevent an off-kiltered dismount due to knocking my forehead on the pedestal sink.

The biggest negotiation of all, descending the wooden steps and furniture-rich living area in the pitch of night to use the facilities. I'm almost in the mental state of a camper. I awake with an urge and then evaluate the extent of it. "You don't have a severe need. You can wait until morning. Just go back to sleep. Oh, forget it. You're wide awake, so you won't roll down the stairs. Just go and get it over with."

Of course, I also have a love/hate relationship with the shower rod. On the day I was to go out on a sailboat, the intent was to hurriedly shower following a gym workout. Water warm, one foot precisely placed on the floor, curtain gingerly pulled back, the other foot in midair entering the area of cleansing when the "wall" came tumbling down without the encouragement of Jericho's horns. Sponge bath time.

Today, upon fetching the step ladder, relocating my nemesis, completing the morning ablutions and beginning the process of becoming presentable, the rod relinquished its hold yet again. No expletives yet, just prayers of thanks that I have not been clobbered with the "rise and fall" of a retractable plastic tube.

Guess what I did this evening. I purchased a new shower rod and lighter shower curtain. I am not defeated, yet!