Because I'm Bored...

There are three weeks left in the quarter, 5 days of which have the potential to be productive. Starting on the 18th, no one is going to be in their offices. Any chance I have at closing sales is essentially done, now I'm just waiting for the orders to come in. This means my days are filled with me trying to entertain myself and find new companies for next year. Thus, I am bored. I thought I would regale you with a story about the worst shower ever made.

Last weekend I went to Verity's house on Saturday night. We were planning on ordering food, watching X Factor, and then I was going to sleep over because Hillary's baby shower was taking place about 10 minutes from V's house (as opposed to the hour or so trip it would have been from my place in West London). So we devoured way to much Indian food, I yelled about how annoying Stacy is and how she makes me want to poke my ear drums out with a dull knife, and V talked about her future wedding with Ollie. Then we went to bed and woke up the next morning to shower and get ready to head to Hillary's. When I was in the bathroom the night before, I noticed that the shower head was sitting on faucet. I asked V, "V, how do you shower? Do you just hold the faucet above you?" She just started laughing, and said "oh this is going to be funny tomorrow." Since V lives on the 3rd floor (2nd floor to Americans) of her apartment complex, the water pressure doesn't allow her to hold the faucet over her head. Instead, in the morning, she leans over the tub to wash her hair first, then when that is done, puts it up in a towel, and then gets in the shower and baths the rest of her.

So at 10 am on Sunday, I headed in the bathroom to try and conquer this shower. I decided that I couldn't stand bending over the tub to wash my hair first, so I went right in. She wasn't kidding. If I held the faucet up to shoulders, the water stopped running. I stared at the shower head for a while, thought about it, and then I knelt down. If I lifted the faucet over my head, the pressure still stopped. I again stared at the shower head for a while, thought about it, and tried channeling my days in elementary school when we had to do problem solving exercises. The best thing I could come up with was to get lower. So I sat indian style. There I was, a 26 year old grown adult sitting indian style in a bath tub. Certainly not my finest moment.

When I was done, I asked V how she has been doing that for 3 years. Granted she's about 4 inches shorter than me, but still. Ridic. Stupid London.