My old hand-held showerhead was a champ. It outlasted one dishwasher, two refrigerators, three cooktops and four kitchen faucets. Hubby and I weren’t the only ones using it, either: for several years it was the power tool I used to scrub the boys squeaky-clean — until the sad day they realized they could outrun me.
Now they’re lots stinkier than they were back when I was in charge of hosing them down. I think my old showerhead died of despair.
I needed a new one, but the Home Depot guy was getting kind of personal about it.
“Before I can recommend a hand-held model, I need to know something,” he said. “What do you DO in your shower?”
“Hunh? I, uh … I … shower… in the shower.”
“And?”
It was just such a weird question. What do people do with hand-held showerheads in showers besides shower? Before I knew it, I was blushing.
“I, uh … I … wash the dogs! Really!”
“Umm hmmm?”
He wanted more?
“I … I use the hand-held to wash the shower walls down!”
“Ummm hmmmm?”
“And, I, um, shower?”
He looked at me carefully. “Do you shave your legs?”
I didn’t know this guy from Adam, and here he was quizzing me about my hygiene. I crossed my arms in front of my chest. Just then the store air conditioners went off — the heat radiating off my face probably tripped the thermostat.
“Um, yeah, well, yeah. I do that, too.”
Satisfied, he turned. “Okay. Then I recommend these models over here.” He waved at a small selection in the corner of the display. “Anything else I can help you with?”
I shook my head, even though I was also supposed to get a new toilet seat. There’s only so much grilling a woman can take at the hardware store.