We Can Do It!

Perhaps it was women like Rosie the Riveter here that inspired me to take matters into my own hands today. We bought a new shower head to replace our crappy one, very similiar to the picture below. The crappy one, that is. This thing is supposed to make you feel like you're standing in a tropical rain forest while the rain just falls down on you. Well, it doesn't specifically claim that on the box but that's what I was expecting it to do. Sadly, it does not. I still feel like I'm in a shower in a basement in Utah.

This is why we switched back to our old stand by model, the detachable massage shower head. It also makes cleaning the shower walls easier. Anyway it's been a few days and Brig has made no move to install the new one. So today as I'm cleaning the bathroom I got all women empowerment and thought to myself Why shouldn't I be able to install this thing by myself? I don't need to depend on my husband. I can do it! It might have been my imagination but it seemed like a voice echoed off the shower surround Yes You Can! That's all I needed to open the package and take inventory of the parts. So I unscrew the old shower head. Easy. I wrap some teflon tape on the pipe threads. Easy. I attach the shower head bracket. Easy. I screw on the hose to the bracket. Easy. I attach the shower head to the hose. Easy. I try to rest the shower head in it's bracket. Uh-oh. It's not fitting. I notice I attached the hose to the wrong ends. I re-do it. Easy. I turn on the water. Voila! It works. Well there's a few drips coming from the pipe that comes out of the wall. I imagine showing my handiwork to my husband. I imagine him pointing out the drips. So I decide to unscrew that part and apply more teflon tape. Instead of carefully uninstalling every section I decide to go right for the jugular. The shower head falls from it's bracket in slow motion and hits the shower floor and breaks. Easy. This shower head wasn't cheap. Fifty bones, as my younger much hipper brother-in-law would say. Fifty dollars as I would say. I must have said Dammit ten times. Ava comes running into the bathroom and says, "What's wrong, Mom?" All I can do is sit on the toilet and cry. I say, "Dad is going to be so mad at me!" Ava promptly starts yowling along with me and says, "Dad's going to be mad at me, too!" I get a grip on myself to comfort her and tell her Dad's not going to be mad at her. I went from Rosie the Riveter to 1950's snivelling housewife in two seconds.

The story ends well. Brig got home and when I tell him what's happened he has the nerve to laugh. And laugh and laugh. He thought it was hysterical that I thought I was suddenly Joe the Plumber. I tell him it makes me sick that it cost so much and now it's broken. I admit I tried to Gorilla glue it back together at which point he laughs some more. I show him the glue I couldn't wash off of my fingers and that sends him to clutching his stomach laughing even harder. Apparently my ineptitude at fixing things brings him joy. Glad to have been of service.

Now for this random picture of Mary Hart. Or is it Heart? That would be perfect, nauseatingly sweet. This woman drives me crazy. Her resume should say professional butt kisser to the stars. I know, what has Mary Hart ever done to me? Nothing except make the occasional appearance on my t.v. and act like her head is full of fluff. One time I about threw up when she was interviewing Barry Manilow. She flirted with him like crazy and he told her her eyes were beautiful. It's Barry Manilow, people. Mary it's time to retire already!