Showers of blessings . . .

Saturday. Sofa. Coffee

It has been awhile since I have had a Saturday morning with time to write. Or time for the sofa. Coffee, on the other hand, or either hand, or both hands sometimes, is mobile, and so, I have not failed to enjoy at least one-third of my week-end morning ritual.

I stay pretty het up these days with sequestration politics and all.  But the het upness is even hotter when the Alabama legislature is in session.  There is so much opportunity for elation or disappointment, depending on how things turn out. The Alabama legislature and Governor Bentley have a bushel of important matters before them.  I will be writing about those issues  in the next few days, things that will greatly affect our great state's future in education, in addressing poverty, inequality and justice, the environment, and the economy.  I  hope you will join me in asking questions and voicing opinions. The actions or inactions of our state government really do matter in our everyday lives and in our children's futures..   It really does no good to complain after the votes are cast. Legislators really do respond to strong public opinion. If they are told what it really is. Your voice matters.

But this is Saturday. Those things must wait. Only till tomorrow. . But they must wait for today.

I haven't had time to do the necessary Saturday things for weeks, which means the list of things to do is pretty long.

But first on the list is fixing the water heater.  Some folks call it a hot water heater.  That is redundant in any case.  But in the case of my particular water heater, it is also a misnomer at the present. I suppose it would most aptly be deemed to be a little bit of water heater.

 My long, hot morning shower is the cocoon into which I retreat each morning to transform from a sluggish, nasty, sleepy caterpillar into a beautiful butterfly.  Okay, the hot water is not that magical, but, generally, I do emerge through the bamboo designed shower curtain as a passable, awake human, shed of the arthritic pains that accumulated overnight,  ready to suit up and head out into the big world.

But, a couple of weeks ago, I stepped from the cold morning air (I like to sleep with the heat off in a different cocoon otherwise known as my blanket laden bed), into the shower.  It was hot enough. I lathered up, applied the shampoo, and began to shave my face. Yes, I shave in the shower.  I was basically blind for much of my life, so a mirror was never any use to me in shaving. At about two minutes into my transformation process, there was an almost imperceptible change, a change that evokes dread in the heart of any dedicated showerer.  The water seemed to be just a little cooler.  Through soap covered eyes I hopefully reached to cut the cold water off a little.  A few seconds later my greatest fears were realized.  The water was ice-cold.  I was still covered with soap and my face was half-shaven.  There was no choice but to rinse off in the refreshing frigid cascade which would have made Coors brewers envious.  I had to finish shaving with cold water in the sink.  I cut myself three times.  How does anyone shave that way?

I have been ridiculously busy for the past couple of weeks.  Too busy to fix my shower. So every morning I adjusted my behavior, rushing through the morning transformation process.  No longer was my shower a warm, comforting cocoon, but a cruel stopwatch, clicking off a countdown of seconds until I was thrust into an arctic hell.  Yes, it was that bad.  I shaved at the sink.  The water was still cold, but at least my exposure was limited.  It was so bad that my hot shower at Camp Sumatanga last week-end seemed like a spa.

I could just learn to live with it.   I could save the few dollars for a new heating element, the scraped knuckles I inevitably get when I fix things, and a couple of precious Saturday afternoon hours, and just leave it the way it is.   The heating element that still works is fine to heat up a few gallons in the tank, even if the remaining water remains untouched, remains icily cold. I could learn to live with it.  And my friends could just get used to me being more cranky and cut up than I used to be.

But that is just silly. My water heater is plenty big enough to provide good, long hot showers for me and several others if need be.

So, I'll get to work. As James Taylor so famously said, you gotta shower the people you love with love." Maybe I can do that better if I have my hot shower.

.