The shower sequence

This summer I am staying in a rental trailer owned by my parents, conveniently located on the lot next door to their home. The trailer life is the closest thing to camping that I have ever been associated. I do not camp. In my adult life, "roughing it" meant that the Hilton was booked and we had to settle for Comfort Inn.

This trailer is the perfect rental for a starving college student or a migrant worker family. But, if I were in the market for a rental home, I would not have included it on my list of options. That being said, my parents have offered it to me rent-free for the summer, including utilities. Even better than it being rent-free is the fact that this humble abode affords me a little bit of peace and quiet. I would certainly rather live in the migrant-worker-trailer than in the spare bedroom at my parents' house--especially for an extended period of time. While the migrant-worker-trailer ain't much to look at or brag about, it does provide me with a quiet place where I can live alone. I can call it home and do not feel like I am a perpetual guest in someone else's house.

After spending a summer in the migrant-worker-trailer, I realize I have accumulated quite a few stories that I must share. Once such story is about the morning shower routine. If someone were watching this morning ritual, they would get quite the laugh out of it. First of all, I never go anywhere in the trailer (not mobile home, not modular home) without flip flops. So, at shower time, I completely disrobe and prance to the shower in my birthday suit and flip flops. I then back up to the shower, leaving my flip flops in the perfect position for me to step into when my showering experience is complete. The shower head is the perfect height to hit me with a blast of water square in the sternum. Any body washing or hair washing above my chest has to be done w/ me poised at a 45 degree angle. Once the water is on, my first move--in this morning ritual--is to move the blast of water from my sternum and point the shower head at the shower curtain in order to thoroughly wet it down. Otherwise, the shower curtain blows w/ the breeze and usually "mats" to my left leg. At the same time I have to balance my stance so that I am standing perfectly in the middle of the shower--an equal distance from the shower curtain and the shower wall (neither of which I ever want to touch). This shower would be the perfect size for a 4' tall kid; but even the average-sized person wouldn't have more than a three inch clearance between shower curtain and shower wall. (For the record, I am not an average-sized person.) When the shower curtain wraps around my leg, I instinctively move to the right, only to bump into the shower wall, which further grosses me out! I do not know how I can feel so icky while trying to get clean. When the shower is complete, I have to remember to move as far back as possible in the shower (i.e., two inches at the most) (without bumping into the shower wall or striking my shoulder on the shower head)--while opening the curtain--in order to avoid it, once again, wrapping around my leg. I didn't do a good job of that this morning and literally squealed when it came in contact w/ my skin. I felt like I was in the middle of a Lucy and Ethel skit...sans Ethel. Usually the cat is seated at the doorway watching this entire scenario unfold each morning. Today I thought I heard him mumble, "What in the hell is her problem?" before he walked away. If only there were a video....