Falling Short Of Standards

I found something curious about Jamaica on the bus ride to the resort from the airport, and admittedly I may be inferring an awful lot from not much evidence, but there it is. Now, the bus took nearly two hours to get us to our destination, and so there was a lot of time to observe things, but there was one thing that I noticed at a rest stop about halfway there. I had to use the rest room, and so I went ahead in there. What I found was dismaying.

The urinal was exceptionally high off the ground. I'm not an incredibly tall man. I fall slightly under the average, I suspect. That is to say that I am slightly short for an American. I have to guess, based on the evidence presented to me throughout my trip to Jamaica, that I am even more short by comparison with Jamaica men. The ones I saw were often tall verging on very tall, although there were those that were not all that tall.

Bathroom Humors

Today is the end of an era here at my apartment, as the management came and took away our toilet. In its place (as they were good enough to not leave us bereft of the means to evacuate filth) is a new low-flow toilet. I am ordinarily excited to receive new, more functional things, but in this case it is difficult to be enthused. The salient improvement that this toilet represents over the old one is that it uses less water, and our water is provided free of charge by the management. I suspect they are very excited about these toilets.

I still do like new things, particularly when they are so pristine. I examined the toilet thoroughly enough, examining the lid's range of motion, the interior of the bowl and the contents of the water tank. It all looks to be in fine shape, but there is nothing in it that is very new conceptually. I have seen toilets of more bewilderingly sophisticated modernity. The toilet does, I'll say, seem to occupy less space, if that's a good thing.

Trauma!

I had written out a whole other post, and was not entirely happy with it, as it was very much like more than one other previous one. I felt lousy about the idea that I was repeating myself like some terrible bore, but knew I had other things to do and was at a loss for something original. I was not about to go out and try to find inspiration, so I seemed stuck with what I had. I sighed and resigned myself to it before showering.

There was to be found something fresh! Now, I had been courting disaster by working down some of my toiletry items down to the last remnants, including my soap and toothpaste. As of this writing, the soap was gone, leaving me to brave some liquid body soap. The toothpaste was holding out. Still in question was my conditioner. There had been plenty the day before, and I knew there wasn't none. Would there be enough?

Clear!

Having a lot of hair, I have a lot of associated problems. One is drains. As I believe I've stated, I have a hell of a time with clogs. The drain in the shower gets clogged, but at least we have the little screen on there to catch the hairs. I toss them out with an exclamation of disgust and dismay, and that's the end of it. The hairs stuck to the walls of the shower don't go so easily, but that's another matter. So to is the sink drain.

For a hell of a long time, it was hopelessly clogged. We're talking water sitting in the sink overnight and only draining by morning. Now, I don't take fast action on such matters. I had been thinking for months about maybe buying some liquid plumber. I was living with it. I was using a jar to catch the water when I shaved, because otherwise the sink would have overflowed by the end. I found that a charming thing that I was doing.

The Sink Is Beginning To Stink, I Think

My bathroom sink is in a fragile state right now. It drains rather slowly, taking a minute to clear all the water when I've had it going for long. This is an inconvenience, but it's one that I find I'm prepared to live with rather than deal with. This would not be so bad, except that mine is the sink near the door in the bathroom that guests are at liberty to use (since the other is in the master bedroom). This makes it something I should deal with.

I don't, of course. After weeks of thought, I finally decided on buying one dollar's worth of baking soda. I understood that this makes for a potent drain-clearer when combined with vinegar (which I knew we had some of in under the kitchen sink). I still haven't used it, because I am looking for the right three hours to render the sink unavailable while that cocktail is doing its business. It just seems all too possible at any hour of the day or night that I might need a sink and some privacy.

Song Box

Something I do sometimes these days is listen to the radio while I shower. I refrain from doing so when I'm getting up early out of consideration for my roommate, or at least I should do so. I'll listen to news radio, or NPR if I'm confident that they're not conducting a pledge drive. I couldn't bear to hear repeated, desperate pleas for my money while I'm in the shower. Sometimes I listen to music, of course, and that may be of any genre.

Lately what I've been going with is classic rock (which is the oldest music still on the radio outside of classical these days). That's typically reliable enough, although any commercial radio can be a bad pick for the shower depending on how the commercials and 'talk time' coincide with things on my end. A commercial break or prolonged instance of chatter from the DJ is apt to knock out much of my morning routine time.

The Water Got Her

One acclimates to consistent phenomena. After a good while, I've gotten used to the hot water in my apartment and how it works. It takes a good, long time to come. You start it up when you get to thinking you might want some hot water. Several minutes later, there it is. Make no mistake, it gets good and hot. You'll burn yourself for sure, but it doesn't sneak up on you. The shower's better, maybe because it's a greater volume of water spurring on the heater.

There's this restaurant in Hollywood that I am in the habit of frequenting sometimes. Stars go there, but that's not a leading motivator. The food is solid, the service is competent and the prices are fair. I've written about the place in good times and bad. After a long absence, I was back the other night, and maybe I've forgotten some of its ways. It can be like that with some things, whereas others don't ever let you forget.

Shower Power

I just can't do without a shower. That is to say that I can't in the ordinary course of a normal day. I can certainly cope under certain circumstances, such as camping (after all, I went unclean on camping trips around once a month most of my childhood and adolescence as a result of Boy Scouts). Otherwise though, I must have a shower before I put in my contacts, and I must have those before I leave the house. At home I can count on the shower happening as I would like. Anywhere else there are no assurances, even at the finest of hotels.

It's not that it is a worse shower. It's just different in a myriad of ways. It's probably a better shower, but it's not mine. This one to which I am now referring is quite spacious- too spacious. I could get lost. It has no bathtub, and while I doubt I would use one, I am accustomed to one being there. This shower has its own controls for temperature and water flow, the latter of which is not substantial. I guess that's fine, and we must conserve, but it's off-putting.

Occupado

It may have been suggested at one time or another that I lack awareness of other people's needs and feelings, domestically speaking. By that I mean some have felt that I fail to consider how the things I do and don't do around the house affect those I live with. That's a valid opinion, and often one which I would agree with. I didn't grow up as an only child, but I have spent most of my life with restroom facilities at my private disposal that the necessity of sharing would introduce a largely new wrinkle to life. I recall a level of co-existence at summer camp, and full sharing in the college dorms. Those experiences were ostensibly for learning, happening as they did while under the auspices of Boy Scouts and an institution of higher education. By now I should be able to cope with occasional inacessibility of the bathroom.

I sort of can do that. I at least don't try to beat down the bathroom door when my roommate is in there, no matter how much I have to go. The number of times when we both want in there is few, and the number of times when the need for each of us is dire fewer still, but I'm afraid that on those rare occasions, the urgency I feel turns my heart in a rather dark direction where my roommate is concerned. A nicer, more fun roommate you could not reasonable expect, and yet a locked bathroom door conjures up some venomous thoughts indeed. I try to deflect them to a safe recipient, such as a chronically unpopular legislative body. Really, there's nothing to be done about the root cause, so it's about serenity- a concept I'm trying to embody. My mantra has become, "What are you gonna do?"