2018-08-31 / Commentary

Shocking Slapstick in the Shower

I’m just saying...
Julia Rogers Hook

My life is turning into a slapstick comedy show.

You remember those old shows, right? The hero or heroine gets themselves into some sort of crazy situation and then hilarity ensues?

That’s my life, but the situations aren’t always hilarious. Not to me anyway!

If you’ve been reading this column, you know we’re undergoing some renovations at our house. That in itself leans towards its own comedy capers but the laugh is usually on me.

Over the weekend, the workers had all gone home and my husband Marty had escaped to our place at nearby Lake Murray. I was sitting home with my dog and two cats contentedly basking in my solitude. There was no hammering, sawing, nail guns, or any loud noises. I had 48 whole hours spread out in front of me with nothing but peace and quiet.

I was a happy woman.

Then…out of nowhere, right in the middle of “Little House on the Prairie,” this god-awful noise started up that literally shook the floor boards of the living room!

The cats ran under the couches, the dog jumped into my lap shivering and I…well…I freaked! I thought The Rapture was upon us and I wasn’t on the guest list!

I cuddled my little dog as I cautiously walked toward the noise…it was in our demolished-but-being rebuilt kitchen and I had no idea what it was.

I was ALONE and I certainly didn’t turn anything on! I craned my neck to listen for horse hooves and trumpets but you couldn’t hear anything over the blasting mystery sounds.

Then in the corner of what will one day be our new kitchen, I saw it. It was some HUGE red thing that was the culprit. It, too, was shaking a little and I wasn’t sure it wouldn’t blow up. I gingerly approached the apparatus, carefully keeping my dog shielded with my body and pulled the plug.

The noise stopped. The dog growled. I could hear the bells on the cats’ collars as they peered out from under the furniture to see if we had been eaten by a monster.

Once I cooed their names, they warily kittycat toed into view, one at a time. Everyone got treats and we settled back down to finish watching “Little House.”

I refilled my wine.

To the TOP of the glass.

There was no one around to witness my lack of decorum except the animals and they weren’t talking.

This morning, the troops arrived again and all was going well. Around noon, everyone went to lunch. I thought that was the perfect time to take my shower. I had checked in with Ernest, the contractor who is also a dear and close family friend and I knew he would know who would be here and when. I had a good hour to get my shower and get dressed before anyone would be back.

But no.

Now, I am a woman who loves to shower. A nice long, HOT shower is one of my favorite things. With all sorts of sweet smelling gels and body lotions, I thoroughly enjoy my shower time, and since this renovation has started I’ve found myself very protective of it…sometimes to the point of irritating Ernest to no end, I’m sure.

But one of the renovations is a new closet for me and it’s off of my bathroom. That entails a gaping hole in my bathroom wall for the time being and privacy is more or less a sweet memory, so it’s more or less a “get it while you can” sort of thing.

I got the water hot enough for the steam to rise, stepped into the shower, and lathered up with one of my preferred scents. Just as I began to relax and was enjoying the sensation of the hot stream beating on my back, I hear my name being called.

What? The guys were already back? At least I HOPED it was the guys and not a murderer who happened to know my name.

“Julia?” There it was again.

“Whaaaat,” I squawked.

“The carpet man is here to measure for delivery.”

With a sigh of relief I realized it wasn’t a murderer but Ernest. But I still didn’t want to have a chat while I was dressed only in soap bubbles!

Apparently the carpet people had a cancellation and the measuring man could come that day. Ernest had no way of knowing I was in the shower and neither of us had any way of knowing about the cancellation and the impending “mandatory” measuring that had to be done.

I quickly rinsed, dried, dressed, and met the extremely apologetic man with the measuring tape. I was sporting a look that was not unlike a drowned rat!

My modesty was preserved but meeting someone while soggy and damp did nothing for my dignity!

There will be no more impromptu showering at my house...no one can take pressure like that!

I’m just saying…

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