Sunday, February 14, 2016

Love in the Time of Kohler

Living in the woods with a well leads to lots of mineral deposits on one's shower head.
My husband took ours off, soaked it for a while, and then went to Lowe's to see what new shower head creations had come out in the past few years.
He came home with a double headed situation on which both heads had choices of streams and power and whatnot.

This is where the Opposites Attract Theory comes into play for the 972nd time in our marriage.

So after checking all settings, on my tiptoes trying to reach the thing, water spraying in my face, I decided on the: All of it come out of just one of the heads-strong enough to get soap and conditioner out of my thick hair- efficiency setting because LET'S GO PEOPLE! I GOT THINGS TO DO!

The next day I went to take my shower and both heads had water coming out of them again. One had a rain-like setting on and the other held a little more pressure. Very: Hey-Good morning-hang out and wake up-soothing you to a mode of awakeness to allow for a drive to work.

Up on my tip toes again, I switched it back to Kate. The next morning I, again, switched it back to Kate. Then, the next morning, it was still on the setting I preferred.
I thought, a-ha!
He has seen the light!
Mine was so much better.

A week later, the husband setting was occasionally re-engaged and I finally asked him,

"How do you decide which setting to use each morning?"
"I use the same one each time."
"No, sometimes I get in and it is still on my setting."
"That is because I love you and I switch it back for you."


"Sometimes I forget to, but mainly I try to put it back for you."

"thank you."

"Because I love you."


So the next morning, when I had finished my shower, I set the shower heads to the way he liked them. By that time in my shower, I wasn't as light-headed and winded standing on my toes with arms over head first thing in the morning, so the struggle was gone. And as I did it I thought,

"I love him."

There are mornings we both forget to switch it. We sometimes joke that night how we weren't loved when we woke up to shower. It is the silliest and stupidest thing ever- and it is the realest and most important thing ever.

In our lives of long work days and children shuffling and cooking and cleaning and crisis fixing and exhaustion wrangling, we sometimes barely see each other. And when we do, we blurt the first thing we had to remember to tell each other. It isn't always, "I love you." It should be, of course. But...

I pass out at 9:20 pm. He goes to bed at 2am. Some days nothing was said or shared, and no hug and sometimes no goodnight occurs as we are trying to get our kids to bed and listening to their fears and worries that only come out at 9pm.

But in the morning I turn on the shower, and the water is all business and single-headed and I think,

"He loves me."

And then as I am about to turn off the water and switch the setting to the relaxing, it is going to be ok setting, I think,

"I love you, too."

And I know he hears it a few hours later when he wakes up, turns on the shower, and I am already gone. And I know he smiles, too.

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