“Did I already shampoo? Can’t remember.”
(Apply a small dab of shampoo. Foams up instantly).
“Dammit, yes.”
My strangest shower thought came from my strangest shower.
I worked for a small company years ago that paid for a “spa day” for its employees after completing a year long death march project. I had a mediocre massage, but afterwards I went to change I their shower room and decided to give the shower a go.
My god. It had a 3ft square rain shower head and no less than 12 separate side jets on the walls, all adjustable. Every inch of my body was hit simultaneously with hot, pressured water. It was like wearing a suit of hot water armor, head to toe. No matter how I moved, water. It was basically a standing bath. They must have had a city water main hooked up to that shower stall, as the pressure was just ridiculous.
I stood in there for nearly 30 minutes. It was wonderful, and also made me realize that this is how the ultra rich lived. This kind of luxury as an after thought, an expectation. For that moment of time, on someone else’s dime, I was in that world. That realization was almost as surreal as the physical experience itself.
Sadly, no matter what the luxury once it’s always available it becomes pedestrian. You enjoyed that shower 10 times more than somebody who has one in their bathroom would.
incredible! can you please describe it a little more, how it worked and especially what the jets did and how that was pleasant vs being bombarded in an unpleasant way. what type of stream was coming out of the jets?
Sure. It was a single stall shower room, beautifully tiled in black and enclosed with a full glass door. It had two knobs, hot and cold on the wall that had the rain head. Turning the knobs turned all of the water on everywhere.
The rain head was on non stop, but you could adjust each wall jet like a round garden hose tip. Tighten to concentrate the spray, loosen to make it wider. Tighten all the way to turn off the jet. The wall jets could also be moved in a wide circular arc from their fixed point on the wall.
It was all mechanical, no smart features or anything. I left all the jets on because why the fuck not.
I read a bunch of philip k dick books a few months ago, and had a sensation that I’m not actually my current age. I’m actually on my deathbed, dreaming or in a half-wake state, and all my experiences are disjointed half-rememberings of things I might have done. And there’s no way to prove any of it either way.
I once thought:“wait, what am I” and had a moment, where I couldn’t feel my body and almost saw myself from a 3rd person perspective
If I push too hard and one comes out… will it fit down the shower drain? Or will I have to break it up with my hands.
These were mad times, mind you.
