Philadelphia & The Shower Story

I'm feeling sentimental. Lots of memories; good memories that make me smile. I don't think I have ever told The Shower Story. I may have, but in any case it's a story worth hearing twice.

When Brent visited for the first time last year in April we drove he drove up to Philadelphia while I was knitting on the passenger side. He had some work related stuff to do there, so we had planned on spending three days up there.

I had booked a B&B in the city. I thought the rooms were beautifully kitschy, Brent thought they were tacky beyond belief. Although he kept commenting on how the clashing colors were not good for his well-being, he did give me credit for having found accommodations that were affordable & with a good city-location - as per his request.

I have to back up here for a moment and say that although my old rental had many problems, the shower pressure was awesome. It was the old rental's best feature. Brent had made a comment, too, on just how awesome it was.

In the B&B he was the first one to take a shower. He came out with a worried look on his face & told me that I wouldn't like the shower. He said that the pressure was "a bit low." "A bit low" for him translated into "an annoying tiny-trickle-thing-that-doesn't-deserve-the-word-shower" for me. It drove me bonkers. I complained about it over & over again in my sweet, whiny way. Brent never said a thing. He just had that worried look on his face.

Philadelphia was awesome. One morning, while Brent did his job-thing at the university, I treated myself to a mocha & discovered the mosaics of artist Isaiah Zagar. They can be found throughout the city. I went to the Italian Market. In the afternoon when Brent came back, we walked down South Street where we had a "bloody expensive" Long Island Iced Tea. Brent had a hard time getting used to the fact that you do tip in the U.S. - even if you think at $9 your drink was way overpriced to begin with. See, I'm a good date. After just one drink I get really funny & entertaining. One is all it takes. ;-) That night we went to the theater. It was so pretty walking through the city in the evening. I felt so fancy in my white dress with Brent holding my hand... Awww. Sigh. Anyhoo. That was Philly.

Back to the shower.

Fast forward. In the weeks after Brent left, we made plans for me to visit New Zealand for my summer break, which translates into Kiwi winter.

One day he said, "Well, now that you're really coming, I'm going to have to do something about my shower."

I said, "What are you talking about?"

He said, "Well, remember the shower in Philadelphia?"

I said, "Yeah. How could I forget... It had the most horrible water pressure eva!" (My Kiwi-speak attempts always made him laugh.)

He said, "Well, the water pressure in my shower is worse than that. You will hate it. And I won't put up with you complaining for five weeks the way you did in Philadelphia, so I'm going to have to hire someone to take out my old shower and put in a new one. And I'm going to have to see what they can do to increase the water pressure."

So here I was, thinking I would be miserable having to put up with horrible water pressure for over a month, but I couldn't let a guy rip out his shower because of it either. Big, big internal conflict.

I said, "You don't have to do all that. I will be fine. Really." (And immediately I thought, "Oh gosh. It will be horrible.")

He said, "No. I saw how you get about the water pressure. I won't put up with it. I'm having a new shower put in."

And he did. For me. Really. No kidding.

After taking my first shower there, he asked, "So, what do you think about the water pressure."

With a grin on my face I said, "It's almost as good as mine."

He looked at me with this You-gotta-be-kidding! look. I smiled & looked at him and then said, "Well, your hot water lasts longer than mine. That gives yours the edge." He laughed. And that, folks, was The Shower Story.