my inability to master the fundamentals of shower operation (holiday inn's, KOA's, ex-boyfriend's family members' at thanksgiving), has decreased the chasm between myself and that of a 10 year old boy's bathing rituals.
there are many advances in modern technology that i am grateful for; the internet allows me to occupy the block of time between 8:30 and 5, monday through friday, by keeping up with old friends, monitoring the 'puffy and married' stats on acquaintances, and stalking everyone else-- i am also deeply in love with my swiffer.
however, skymall's "dry clean your garden gnome collection while making a deep fried guava smoothie from the comfort of your own lazee boy" notwithstanding, there are some "just for your conveniance" improvements that serve to weaken the belief that i am even capable of telling the time on a digital watch. the designers responsible for streamlining the taps in showers to the point where bathers must adjust a compass to determine if the ablutions are going to take place in anchorage, alaska or the sudan, are not conserving much water when i am cowering from the frigid (then scalding) firing line, and simultaneously engaging in a complex choreography of supine backflip triple axles, to avoid touching anything 'cold and ceramic', or 'slimey and shower curtain'.
and much like maui brownie madness versus cookie dough, i am also unable to choose which of the 365 remote controls will let me view joan rivers modelling a limited edition, presidential 2008, 10 carat gold plated tennis bracelet, watch the shriner's at a neighborhood pancake eating contest, or simply adjust the setting on the lazee boy to better digest my fruit smoothie.