I enjoyed our brief trip to San Antonio, but it’s good to be home. Why? Among other things, I confess that I have grown accustomed to the everyday amenities in our house.
Take the shower, for instance. Our bed and breakfast room had a bathtub shower with an overhead nozzle and a square metal apparatus from which the shower curtain was hung. You turned on the shower, climbed in, and pulled the curtain closed around you.
It had a distinctly continental look to it, and was very quaint and charming — but it felt precisely like showing in a telephone booth. My head stuck out of the top, making me feel a bit like Gulliver in Lilliput, while at the same time, the clingy shower curtain established an ever-present physical boundary. It was tough to maneuver soap, shampoo, and washcloth in such tight surroundings, and good luck to you if you dropped the soap while lathering and had to sink down inside the shower cubicle to try to retrieve that slippery item.
So forgive me if I’m looking forward to this morning’s visit to the familiar shower stall here at home, where the shampoo bottle and soap dish are in their expected places and a little elbow room may be found.