PlazaJen: Passion Knit

I love my shower radio. I was even talking about it at Knit Night a month or so ago, and Abbey said, "Oh my gosh! I always looked at those and wondered, 'Who buys those?'!"

Well, that would be me. I'm not ashamed. I like it. The first time I took a shower with it, Green Day was playing ("Boulevard of Broken Dreams") and I started singing along, and immediately, the dog started burfing. BURF! Hey, she's gotten used to it now. She just wants to make sure we are always ready to move to a higher alert level.
In any event, I enjoy my $20 gadget, it has a clock (so I can see how late I am), and even a mirror (so I can NOT look at myself, mmmmmk, I'm confident but not that narcissistic). It has a three-suction-cup thingy that slides into a slot on the back, if you want it to stick to the wall - AND/OR it has a shoelace-sort of hanger to sling over the shower head. I excel at overkill in some areas of my life, and Shower Radio Safety is one of those areas. The tile on the walls are small tiles, and the positioning of the suction cups allows for only TWO suction cups to work. Plus, I don't have a lot of faith in those things. So I use the two suction cups, AND the rope thingy over the shower head. And the rope thingy is secured by one of those gizmos nobody even bother to name, the thing you push in so the holes are open, and then you thread the laces through, and let go, and then it springs back and through tension, holds the laces in place. Commonly seen on parka hoods and sleeping bags. Mmmmkay? Got the visual?

So I'm getting in to shower one morning, and turn my radio on. In adjusting the volume, I accidentally bump the tuner. ARGH. I can't deal when a radio station is not coming in perfectly. The scratchy and the feedback - sends me to the moon. So as I try to mess with the tuner, WHUPS, the suction cups come off. I told you! You can't trust them! So I'm grabbing behind the shower radio (keep in mind the water is on, adding Slippery and Vision Reduction to the drama!) and I accidentally press that damned gizmo that holds the rope laces in place. Now the radio is falling, because Gravity takes over. (GRAVITY: IT'S THE LAW.) And I (not realizing how loud I'm being) unintentionally start sing-song-shouting, "OH OH OH OH OH OH OH OH OH!" And my husband is cracking up on the other side of the wall because I sound EXACTLY LIKE M.C. HAMMER.

Stop!
Shower Time!

You just try and tell me you can't hear that catchy music in your head now. :)

Then James started banging on the wall because I was singing, and it was just like the Good Old Days at Widow Creek with the Neighbor From Hell, and all I could do was laugh and laugh and laugh at the thought of JUST how horrible her life would have been if I'd discovered the shower radio a few years sooner. Oh, yes. I would have had my own drum section covered by her banging, eeeeevery morning. (According to her, I did my laundry at 5 in the morning. Helllo, have you met me? I don't get up that early unless (altogether now!) it's the DAY AFTER THANKSGIVING OR THE DAY AFER CHRISTMAS. I will try to put together a few blog recaps about those joyous days, because now, free of apartment living and a next-door-neighbor who drove every resident crazy, they are funny stories. Not while I lived them, and believe you me, I didn't just take her allegations and banging and roll over and turn the other cheek. It's as I said last night to my husband about the cable company trying to overbill us, and it applied to Harriet the Horrible as well, "You just don't fuck with me." Can't Touch This!

STOP! Shower time.