When my sister and I were in Junior High Dad decided to gut our only bathroom. Problem was, Dad couldn't figure out how to get the new bathtub in the space where the old cast iron one used to be. Luckily, in my family we are as creative as we are inept. Dad tossed a garden hose over the rafters in the garage and placed a blue plastic kiddy pool underneath it. Ta da. This was our shower for the next three weeks.
Open mouthed my sister and I could not believe we would be forced to be n-u-d-e in the garage and under a hose. Dad was indignant, clearly we could not see the genius in his design and we better, "goddamned appreciate it or we could shower at the school". We actually didn't mind too much. Dad thoughtfully hooked up the hose to the laundry room utility sink and snaked it out to the garage so we could have warm water. At least as long as no one in the house flushed the powder room toilet.
Our lingering horror was in the imagined reactions of the neighbors as they watched us march one by one to take our turn in the rigged up shower. Having lived most of his life in and around farms Dad didn't always get the rules of suburbia. After a good sweat working in his PBS Victory Garden dad would strip down to his white saggy skivvies and give himself a good hose off. Outside. Apparently, he too didn't like having to shower in the garage; he just had a different objection.
Lucky for me I married an architect. My husband will pull out the level to hang my pictures and re-caulk the tub at the first sign of skeevy black stuff. He contents my OCD side and doesn’t mind, no insists, that I allow him to do the home repair. I try to wait for him, I really do. But my impatient upbringing rises up in me and next thing I know I'm hiring the two teenage guys next door to bring the enormous Ikea bookshelf from the dining room to the basement. They were very apologetic when the bookshelf got wedged halfway down the stairwell. After husband calmly took the shelf apart and reconstructed it (with a level) downstairs later that night I cheerfully said, “See doesn’t it look better down here?”. Silence. Did I mention the man also has more patience than I will ever own?
So when I saw this video on YouTube I just about blew a fuse. My lust, my quest for organized physical perfection has been stoked. But my fingers once again fail me. I can't do it. I just can't. I have watched this video at least 10 times and I think I've got it and no. Damn, lost it! I know I'm going to have to wake up husband in the morning and ask him to recreate this for me in slow motion.