Our last apartment move left an indelible impression
on me. Why? Because of such a mundane thing as
a shower curtain. It happened like this:
While sitting at my desk trying to reassemble my computer, my wife, Jean, stuck
her head into the study and cheerily announced, “Dear, I’m going to the mall to buy a new shower curtain.”
Of course I should have asked, “What’s wrong with the shower curtain we brought with us from our last apartment?” But, sensing her determination, I forewent that obvious masculine query. Furthermore, feeling guilty about neglecting her during our move, I decided it would be a good idea to secure to myself some of the blessings of domestic tranquility and thereby provide for my defense. Besides, I thought to myself, This’ll be an easy way to earn a few extra brownie points. Also, maybe she could use some of my more mature masculine advice. Being completely oblivious of that invisible gaping pit right in front of me, I changed my tune and offered, “Sure dear, I’ll drive you to the mall.”
So off we flew to a huge department store. Jean immediately acquired a shopping cart. I wondered to myself, Why is she picking that up? I can certainly carry such a little thing as a shower curtain for her. But a little voice told me to mind my own business. Then, following some mysterious feminine compass, my beloved marched straight off toward the shower curtain department.
There they were: shower curtains of every possible color, design and pattern. I thought, This will be a cinch: just buy the first one that comes to hand--since all will do the job. And sure enough, my masculine logic paid off. For there, right in front of us, was a package of transparent plastic shower curtains. I thought, That will surely go with any type of wall paper. Who cares if it is transparent? You’ll be all alone in the bathroom anyway. Seeming to agree with my conclusion, my helpmate promptly picked one out and plunked it down in my shopping cart while saying, “There, that’ll do just fine.”
I rejoiced. “Great. Now we can get out of this jungle?”
But of course my naive expectations were immediately shattered when she announced, “Oh no. That’s only the liner. Now we have to get the shower curtain.”
My hopes started to ebb when I realized we hadn’t even begun our quest.
Then came, “I have to get something that will go with the wallpaper color and pattern in our new bathroom.” I had to grant that that was sort of logical. Then she announced, “I need a nautical motif, you know: like light blue with many beautifully colored tropical fish.”
Again, reasonable.
After looking at a seemingly endless number of shower curtains, Jean sighed, “I don’t see anything that’s just right.” Obviously my envisioned fifteen minute shopping trip was growing like topsy and my enthusiasm was diminishing apace.
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However, just then, glancing almost up to the ceiling, she joyously squealed while pointing, “Oh, I think that one will be just perfect.”
Of course I couldn’t reach that high, so this determined do-gooder was immediately off to get a salesperson who’d bring a stepladder. Now in a crowded department store, that was no mean trick. However, I finally found one and practically begged him to come help us. He deigned and on arrival agreed a ladder was needed. So, off he went. After what seemed like a half-hour, he returned with the requisite ascension device. Following many directions from my wife, he retrieved the one and only proper shower curtain.
Jean positively purred, “Oh, this will go positively beautifully.” as she proudly plunked it down in my shopping cart. Wow! I thought. At last, I’m out of here. But once again, such was not to be. For next I heard “We have to get the right hangers to hang it up with.” I wondered, Do hangers come in different types? Apparently so. So it was off to the bathroom accessories department. After only about five minutes of looking and debating, a package of transparent plastic hangers was added to my growing shopping cart contents.
Then came, “We positively have to have a bathroom rug that will match both the wallpaper and my nice new shower curtain.” So, again emboldened by past successes, my proud shopper hustled us off to the bathroom rug department. Of course the choice was not easy--it never seems to be for the female of the species-- but she finally settled on just the right one.
“O.K. Off for home?” I pleaded.
No way! “Now I have to get a drinking cup to match the wallpaper, the shower curtain, and the bath mat.” So it was back to the bathroom accessories department. Of course, again, the choice was not simple. “After all, you wouldn’t want a bathroom that didn’t all go together, would you?” How could I answer civilly? By now I didn’t give a darn how it looked. But I didn’t dare be that honest in the face of her obvious pleasure at having concluded a very successful shopping trip. We acquired the final accessory: a nice blue drinking cup.
But then, instead of heading for the checkout counter, there was delivered the coup de grace, “Of course now we have to get color-coordinated towels and wash-clothes.” I, a grown man, almost broke down in tears. But what could I do? So this martyr tailed after his mistress to the linen department.
After several additionally completely unexpected purchases, I finally just managed to push our now-fully loaded shopping cart up to the checkout counter. My mate and the checkout lady positively beamed at each in mutual feminine agreement over the success of her mission.
. . . . . . .
Now, having just moved into our latest apartment, and while again sweating over getting my computer assembled, Jean once again breezily popped her head into the study and announced, “I’m
going to t he mall to buy a new shower curtain since our old one simply won’t go with this bathroom’s completely different wallpaper color and design.”
Born of hard-won battle experience, I weakly replied, “Good luck dear,” and gave her a good-bye peck.
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