a mildly angry, very long-winded sneeze

My shower:

Yes, I realize you are old. Yes, I realize that when I desire to use your services, it is fairly early in the morning, and it is probably difficult to remember which faucet is hot and which is cold. Nevertheless, you are a shower: showering people is what you were designed to do.
Atleast that is what I am guessing you were designed to do, although that assumption is based more on my past experiences with showers, rather than your performance these past few months. If I were to hazard a guess as to your reason for existence, it would be to alternatly scald and then freeze the hapless individuals who stepped inside your porcelain rim for a quick scrub and maybe, sometimes, some have shower sex.
A one millimeter turn of the hot water knob does not, you see, warrant a change in water temperature from "chilly" to "blistering." A one millimeter change in the cold water knob does not warrant a change from "a bit too warm" to "arctic." Me standing there scrubbing my naughty bits does not mean that I want you to blanche my buns like so much whatever-food-it-is-that-people-blanche.
You see, I am not a penguin. Neither am I one of those bacterial colonies that thrives in the boiling tidal pools found in national parks. Neither am I an individual who enjoys experimenting with exciting and extreme water tempteratures. If I wanted to burn myself, I would boil a pot of water on the stove and then tilt said pot over my head. If I wanted to freeze myself, I would wander naked in the snow, or stick my hands into the vats of liquid nitrogen they have hidden in the chem labs. Since I do neither of these things (and moreover, since none of the occasional shower-partners engage in these activities either) it is safe to say that I do not enjoy being burned, chilled, and blistered when I take a shower.
I know you are old, but Strom Thurmond has more control over his pipes than you.

My friend:
See, some people need this thing called “personal time.” It is kind of like personal space, only it is kind of mental. It is nothing against you (except you are the one who is invading all my personal time) but sometimes, I just want to watch TV by myself. Give me a day or two, eh?

My 10:00 class:
If I am going to wake up before noon, I except to be alerted if the class is going to, say, decide to change rooms. Rousing myself at the crack of dawn only to find an empty classroom (where the hell did you go?) does not a happy student make. You didn’t even leave a note as to your whereabouts, for crying out loud.

My floor:
Just because I waxed exstatic last week upon the discovery that that thing sitting behind the cumbersome broom and dust pan was vacuum cleaner, and just because I happily stated something along the lines of “Oh Boy! I LOVE cleaning with this VACUUM CLEANER! I COULD clean all DAY with my VACUUM CLEANER!” does not mean I meant it.
Where in god’s name is all that dirt coming from, I ask? Sure, I tracked in a bit after that rain a few days ago, but why are you causing this dirt and mud to multiply? Why are you letting this dirt migrate freely about the apartment? What kind of ungrateful floor are you? Stop pretending like I am tracking things in I am not, please, or I will be forced to take action. As much as I enjoy going barefoot, I do not want my feet to enjoy a natural environment in the apartment. Consider yourself warned.
phew! if only my shower were literate, things would be looking up right about now.

A nice rant: I like this notion of addressing essays to household accoutrements, as it’s probably quite good for mental health.

That vacuum cleaner of yours seems a bit too bossy though - is there some kind of modern “Sorceror’s Apprentice” thing going on there? Just lend the damned thing to the kind of person who can’t be trusted to give it back for 3 bloody months, (then you’ve solved the “personal time” problem as well, 'cos nobody will come to visit your messy house.)

That’s a mighty fine idea of giving the vacuum cleaner away. Could the problem be that all this time the machine was at fault, while I was busy blaming the floor?

I’m not sure if it would deter Christopher Cling, thouhgh - I stopped doing my dishes in attempt to curtail visits (figuring that, sooner or later, he would get hungry and go home) but no, he just cleans what he needs.

I think I have scalp burns from rinsing my hair this morning.

Ah well.


If you would kindly keep your grubby hands, not to mention the rest of your grubby body to yourself, you wouldn’t be troubled by my ancient groanings.

Every damn morning you stomp on my floor, wrenchingly twist my delicate knobs…then you have the audacity to scream and swear at me…what do you expect?

The abuse I take when you and your significant other get to squirming and slithering along my walls isn’t too bad but I really get an attitude when you start ramming you stinkin’ butt repeatedly into my walls it’s more than a gentle shower should have to put up with.

If you want to get clean, go run in the rain like the deer and leave my tired old pipes alone.

Reply to the Shower’s Reply:

Is that lip[ you are giving me, you porcelain piece of puke? I have half a mind to tilt gallon of paint thinner down your whine-minded drain, or start pissing in the shower.

I treat you nice - every morning I am very gentle and polite until YOU decide a wake-up call is in order by way of a scalding niagara falls. (Even though refering to the dribble that leaks from your pressure-less pipes as “niagara falls” is almost too ludicrous to say.) I spray you down after every shower with a nice, soothing spray-bottle of Clean Shower Spray. And what am I repaid with? Second-degree burns.

And until you are ready to cough up bail when I am arrested for indecent exposure, keep your sewer-mouth shut about taking my showers outdoors. If my memory serves (and it does), you couldn’t be bothered to bail me out the last two times, and I cant afford any more huge fines at the moment, thank you very much.

Just be glad you aren’t collecting rust in a junk yard somewhere. Stupid shower.

Wait 'till next time potty mouth, I’ll give you something to sneeze about!