Crutches are fun…..
I felt a little grimy after work yesterday, so I hopped in the shower. Showering with one working leg is tricky but I have a system. I keep a chair just in the right position outside of the shower stall (the fiberglass kind with a glass shower door) so I can plop myself down to dry off when I get out. Next, I lay my crutches against the wall next to the stall so they’ll be handy when I get myself dried off and am ready to go prep my face for impending beauty. Once everything is in position I swing the door open and plop myself down on my shower stool and I’m ready to lather, rinse, repeat.
So, there I was with the shower wand in my hand getting good and cleaned up when I heard this loud crash: BAM A LAMA BADA BOOM! Boom. Squeak. What the hell?!? My crutches had fallen over and wedged themselves between the shower door and the bathtub. I was barricaded in and they were just laying there like the final two sticks in a giant game of Pick Up Sticks. F’ing crutches! I felt like I was in the next Final Destination movie waiting for the drain to clog itself and start filling the shower with water to my certain doom. When will Angie be home? Oh crap, she has to work late! I went ahead and finished my shower, trying to plan an elaborate escape like something out of a James Bond movie. And I wanted to be clean when I busted outta there. But I was butt-nekked, had no phone or tools, and only one leg to stand on. And my shower stall is about the size of a medieval iron maiden.
So I did the only logical thing I could think of…….I grabbed the scrub brush and cleaned the stall. It had gotten a little mildewy during all this gimpy invalid stage of my life and was due for a good scrubbing anyway. I scrubbed every inch of it and worked up a good sweat that completely negated the very reason I got in the shower to begin with. So I turned the water to full cold and rinsed off all over again.
I had now been stuck in the shower for over 30 minutes and was starting to get antsy. Still no sign of Angie. I took inventory to see if I could fabricate something to save me like the NASA team did for Apollo 13. I had a stool, a shower head, a scrunchy thing (red), a bottle of Axe soap (where were the ladies from the commercial now, Axe?????), some shaving cream, a razor blade, a toothbrush, a bar of soap, and a scrub brush. The shower head was dangling by its hose and in my desperate state of mind I assessed whether it was long enough to throw over the glass door and try to hook it under the crutches and pull them out of the way. For an engineer, it was a pretty faulty calculation, but there was nothing else to do so I gave it a shot. I cut the water off, and let it drain a bit. Now, have you ever turned the shower off and just when you think the head is completely drained it spits up an exhorbitant amount of water out of nowhere? Well as soon as I flung the shower head over the door it decided to puke out an entire gallon of water all over the crutches and all over the floor. Ffffffuuuuu……..! And it wasn’t near long enough. This was becoming comical. I drew the shower head back in and let it dangle with me in my private, soaked (but very clean!) prison.
I needed Life Alert dammit.
I tried jiggling the door to jar the crutches loose. I was successful if the goal was to make a whole heap of annoying rattling noise and work the crutches against the door even tighter.
So there I sat until Angie came home. I think my yelling for her from the back of the house scared her into picturing some disaster of me laying on the floor hurt, but she got over it real quick when she found me stuck in a telephone booth in my birthday suit. Sorry, no pictures. NSFW.
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