Thirteen Thursday # 11

Thirteen Bathrooms:

1. Growing up in Goleta, we had two bathrooms in our home. One for my brother, sister and me, and one off the master bedroom for my parents. The kid's bathroom didn't have a shower, only a bathtub. Kindof a drag once I became a teen, and wanted to shower every day before school. My father would leave early each morning, and Mom would sleep in. One at a time, Brother, Sister, and I would trapse through her bedroom, take a shower, and leave quickly. We were not allowed to blow dry our hair, or put on make-up in the bathroom. We had to get out for the next person.
2. In high school, the locker room had one small toilet off the door to the gym, and a large open shower area. Several poles with shower heads on four sides and a pink tiled floor. I was on the swim team, and we practiced late at times. I remember one afternoon in particular, when about 10 of us decided to slip and slide on our bare asses in the showers. God. If there were hidden cameras, I'd bet they'd have made quite a tidy sum with a video of that. Of course, that was in the days before the Internet.
3. The dorm I lived in at school, once I moved out, had "suites" instead of simple rooms. Double rooms, connected by a toilet and shower/tub combo for four girls. There was a sink actually in each of the rooms. My roommate Patti and I used to throw ice water over the shower curtain when the other was taking a shower. When I was a resident assistant there, I held more than one freshman girl's hair back as she barfed her guts out in one of those toilets.
4. My first real apartment on Mathilda Way had one of those bathrooms where the toilet and shower had a door, but the sink and counter was an extension of the one bedroom. My roommate got up and blow dried her hair 10 feet from my bed every morning at 5 am. I worked night shifts. It was not good.
5. I lived in a renovated garage off the main house when I was the live-in supervisor at Project First Step. It was a group home for severely behavior disordered, developmentally disabled adults. The bathroom was right next to the "office" (a former pantry closet), in the main house. The wall between was really thin, and I used to make fart noises with my hands and laugh hysterically with whomever was working that night. Yes, I'm still that immature.
6. For six months, I lived in a great big house with four other roommates. A couple, and two guys. The two guys and I shared a bathroom. About a week after I moved in, I cleaned out under the sink. There were about 10 penthouse and hustler magazines under there. Did I check them out? No. They were completely damp and moldy. Boys can be gross.
7. Japan. For the first time in my life, I had my own bathroom. I didn't have to share it with anyone. Japanese bathtubs are marvelous. I think my love affair with the bath started with that bathtub. It was blue, and square, and deep. In Japan, folks shower first, then bathe. Very civilized, actually, instead of sitting in one's own sludge. It had only two settings: Arctic and Sear. I'd have to play with just the right proportions, changing them according to the weather.
8. When I got back to the States, I moved in again to a big house with lots of roommates. Three single guys and another girl. She and I and one of the guys shared a bathroom, and clean-up duties rotated. Jenny was the girl. Do any of you remember that Indian Earth powder bronzer? Jenny must've had stock in that company. She would put it on every morning, and somehow, that crap got into every nook and cranny in that bathroom. On the knobs, on the towels, in the cracks in the tile, even on top of the lightbulbs. I pleaded with her to put her make-up on in her bedroom, but no go. I lasted 10 weeks.
9. Top floor corner apartment was next. God, I loved that place. I had the master bedroom, with a master bath. Wow. I could stay in there as long as I wanted. I lived there almost four years, with an assortment of revolving roommates, including this one. One of the sexiest nights I ever spent was had partly in the shower in that bathroom. Oh how I missed it when I left.
10. Next was a little house on Cliff Drive. I had one roommate, a guy this time. The bathtub was old and huge. Far too big for the little water heater we had. I would boil water on the stove and add it to the tub so it would be hot enough and full enough. We only lived there six months before the owner wanted to move back in.
11. He and I moved to another house together, and lived there for five years, until he got engaged. I once again had my own bathroom, but it was tiny. Also, my bedroom was upstairs, but the bathroom was downstairs. Kinda a drag when I wasn't dressed decently. The shower was a cruel thing. Had one of those mean little "water saving" shower heads. What that meant was that far less water came out, in miniscule streams, but at a rate that would exfoliate skin. Have you ever been in a sand storm? That was the sensation of my shower every day.
12. Moved to my very first apartment by myself. Huge bathroom again. Great bathtub. A glass of wine, candles, music on the stereo and a magazine. I had a fine time. That's also when I got a waterproof "foot massager." Oh yeah. I never got out of the tub.
13. Finally, where I am today. I've written before about my massive bathroom, and tiny shower. It's like a boat shower. I knock the door open when I turn around. And no tub. I've had no tub for three and a half years. I miss my baths. I'm just going to have to find me a man with a tub.