I was going to write something about the god awful band I saw tonight at the Queen of Hoxton with my house-buddy Cristina but in an effort to look on the bright side I think I'm going to reflect instead on the joys of bathing.
Upon moving into my shitty council flat in London I was horrified when informed that the 'shower' is only a bath with a very low-pressure shower tube thing that you have to hold the entire time.
Although I found out later this is quite normal in these here parts, I was initially mortified at the idea of having to clutch the nozzle between my bare soapy knees while trying to lather my hair every single day.
Turns out sitting is the only option in this particular situation and it suits my laziness perfectly! Combined with the lack of daily government-sponsored guilt trips about wasting water I often find it the most enjoyable part of my day. I now have a legitimate excuse not to shower in the morning as a nightly bath seems much more suited to my current facilities, and if I am feeling particularly lazy I just lie down and ponder the loveliness of my rainbow Missoni towel, the spotty shower curtain and the fresh smell of pear body wash.
Now what am I going to cook Amanda for dinner tomorrow night?
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