Before we even walked in the house of our friends Janet and Tom, Tom said, “I’ll show you how to work the shower.”
I thought he was teasing me about my issues with showers on this vacation and thought nothing more of it. Meanwhile we had a delicious dinner and went to choir rehearsal. The four of us had sung together in college, and they invited us to sing in their church choir – a marvelous, challenging experience!
When it was time to go to bed, Tom came downstairs with us and said he would demonstrate the shower. Golly Pete! It was the same type of faucet/shower head arrangement as the one in Phoenix. Tom took no chances with me and actually ran water, showing me how to pull down a bit of the faucet to make the water come out above. OK. I could do this.
The next morning I did as John AND Tom advised, got the water temperature to the right level and transferred it to the shower head. Don’t ask me how I do these things to get myself in trouble. I thought I gently pulled the curtain closed. No, I was a jerk. I must have jerked it, because four of the hooks jumped off the rod and entwined around each other. I was grunting, in John’s hearing, I’m sure. Those hooks behaved like fishhooks and refused to let go. They had dug in for a tough fight. I took a deep breath, slowed down, and squinted to see what I was doing without my glasses. Finally! Everything was on track, and I could get clean. Shower senility is not easy to deal with!
After John read about my problems with the motel shower, he said he wanted to be there the next time to hear me yelp. He followed that with a brilliant suggestion – get the water to suit you before you step in. Well, duh! I never thought of that. Up till now, I’ve always been able to command the shower to do what I wanted. What power I had back when I was young!
Not wanting to get my head wet, I took John’s advice. All was going well, or so I thought. I flicked back the curtain, stepped in, and turned to close it. With disbelief, I looked at what I had done. You know the two magnets that are often at the lower ends? They had hooked themselves together, leaving great triangles of open space at both ends of the tub. I could imagine water going everywhere, wetting the towels and my clean clothes. Aaauuugggghhhh!
I am now officially shower senile. Good news for you, though. I’m not showing any photos.
There was a gorgeous full moon hanging in the sky just above the mountains as we headed for Gunnison. Of course, the photo does not do it justice. It looked so big that you felt you could almost reach out and touch the huge orb.
We were a little late checking into the motel, according to John’s timetable. It didn’t matter at all. We took a side trip to drive through Telluride. Over the years we’d heard so much about it that we longed to see it. I was amazed that so many of the houses were squeezed up – narrow homes of two and three stories jammed onto tiny lots. It’s a good thing there was plenty of mountain air, otherwise people would have been gasping for breath.
Our motel room was just inside the back door and across a hallway from the lobby. Surprisingly, it wasn’t noisy. Perhaps we were the last guests to check in. My thoughts were, it will take about 10 steps to get to breakfast. Be sure to put on outdoor clothes, because this isn’t your own home.
Before I opened my eyes the next morning, I was transported way beyond North Carolina, back to my childhood home. There was that very familiar smell of burned toast. I’ve talked about it enough that most people know my mother burned the toast on a routine basis. There I lay in a motel bed, thinking it was time to get up to go to school. But, wait! There was no scritch, scritching of Mom’s scraping the burned edges off the toast. This was a motel room, and I wouldn’t have to eat the morning burnt offering.
I did not feel at home with the shower. At our age we are constantly on the alert for signs of irreversible aging. I’m beginning to think the first thing to go for me is the ability to deal with strange showers. The normal things were there – tub, faucet with a lever, and circular hardware for turning on the water and adjusting the temperature. There were no instructions. The silly thing had no color cues, either, so you didn’t know which way meant you’d scald yourself. I think the water pressure was regulated by pulling the lever, and the temperature was controlled by twisting. When things seemed right to my feet, I transferred the water to the shower head. I didn’t know I could jump and scream at the same time, but ice cold water shot out with great force. I wonder if the military has ever considered ice warfare. Soldiers could be immobilized by instant freezing wetness.
While we’re on the subject of not feeling at home in a motel, I want to know who decided you need 5 to 6 pillows on a bed? It’s the in(n) thing now. OK, I can understand one under your head and one to hug, but 6 pillows for two people????
I did feel at home after breakfast when we opened the curtains. Light snow was falling, so I read the newspaper while John looked at email. We stayed at Gunnison two nights, one day being set aside for John to ferret out train history here while I caught up on email and blogging. This began to feel like a vacation instead of a fast paced tour. And maybe, just maybe, a nap in the afternoon!!!!! That would be the most homelike thing I could do away from home.
My name is Suki, my human is a writer, and this is about my world. The world according to Suki The Cat. My humans smell funny, look weird, and I can't understand a thing they say, but they feed me, so hey, what are you gonna do?