I awoke this morning to the jarring realization that the hot water heater had gone out during the night.
I don’t know where it went exactly, but when it returned, it steadfastly refused to make any hot water. I suspect it was hanging about with Bolsheviks. That is exactly the sort of anarchistic behavior they would fill an impressionable young water heater with. Would that they filled it with water instead!
I have become quite spoiled in my life. Not only do I like taking showers every morning, but I like taking them in warm water. I have forgotten my origins. I have forgotten the days before I had a shower in my life. Showers were for rich people. When I was growing up, we had to make do with baths. And we were thankful to have them!
But somewhere in the course of my life, I was seduced by the siren song of showers. When I had my first one when I was in college, I knew instantly that I could never go back to baths.
Over time, the morning shower just became part of my routine. I would eventually come to depend on them to wake me up and get me moving. In fact, I depended on them to make me coherent.
Not that I ever took showers for granted. Showers are one of those few things in life that, each and every time I experience one, I feel true gratitude and thankfulness and I willingly offer that up as a silent prayer of thanksgiving. Warm showers are one of human-kind’s greatest achievements.
But to be truly thankful for warm showers, one must occasionally experience a cold shower.
And I did just that this morning.
I could not NOT take a shower. For one thing, to not take a shower would mean that I would shuffle through the day with no more sentience than an iron anvil. And secondly, without a shower, there is no way to tame my morning hair and so the chances of me being shot with a tranquilizer gun at some point during the day is quite high.
So a took a cold shower this morning.
And let me tell you … I was quite happy to pay a king’s ransom to get a new hot water heater installed pronto.