Clean, or something like it

After a week of shared bathrooms and sketchy towels, I was really excited to take a shower at home. (I've come a long way with my bathroom. You get used to things.) But I came home to find that the gas can for my hot water heater needs to be replaced. And my landlord's son, who usually replaces it, isn't around to do it. My landlord said she'd send someone else over either last night or this morning.

I tried really hard to change it myself. I'm smart, I'm capable, it shouldn't be that difficult. I can't do it. I've tried before, I'll probably try again, but I can't do it. After you hook the gas tank up to the water heater you have to light it by sticking a match into a hole in the heater. And eventually my often-silent inner voice of reason always kicks in and reminds me that I'm playing with matches and a large can of gas and if it's not working I clearly don't know what I'm doing and I should stop before I blow myself up. And then I stop. I really hate that I'm at the mercy of others for something so basic, but I don't want to set myself on fire, either.

Anyway, at 11am no one had come to light the tank and I was getting bored. I had to bathe, but I just didn't have it in me to take a cold shower. It's not just that cold showers are unpleasant, they actually hurt. A lot. So I put a big bowl of water in the microwave and gave myself a standing sponge bath. That's when I heard the knock on the door. There was no way I could answer it quickly, so I still have no hot water. And even though I technically bathed, I'm still feeling pretty grubby. And my hair is gross.

So I'm not gonna date my bathroom. Every time I start to trust it, it fucks me over and leaves me feeling dirty.