Saturday, 15 October 2016
Squeegee and bum cheeks
It is often said that when you live with the same person over many years you grow more and more alike. In our house this phenomenon is most apparent in regards to our newly-fitted shower cubicle.
Mrs Jones is rather obsessive when it comes to cleaning our house. Following the recent fitting of our spanking new bathroom, it was no surprise to find her devoting three hours each week to scrubbing the glass and tiles so as to maintain their sparkle. Her urge to cleanse was, she told me, mainly activated by her noticing water stains on the sides of the shower unit. To counter these triggers, she bought a squeegee – those plastic-handled implements with the rubber edge, commonly used by window cleaners. She told me that she uses this squeegee to remove the drips from all four sides of the cubicle (two tiled, two glass) immediately after each shower. Strategically, she left the device hanging from one of the bathroom fittings.
Immediately following my daily rinse, I now feel compelled to replicate my wife’s cleaning behaviour. If anyone was unfortunate enough to spy on my after-shower routine in the cubicle, this is what they would witness:
STEP 1 – Turn off the sprinkler and pick up the squeegee.
STEP 2 – Standing on tiptoes, dripping wet, stretch and place the squeegee at the top of one glass wall, and slide it downwards to the floor in one smooth, squeaky stroke, while being mesmerised by the strangely addictive droplets of water toing and froing in all directions as if to evade capture.
STEP 3 – Upon reaching the crouch position at the bottom of the stroke, I contemplate how my scrotum swings dangerously close to the shower floor; another few years and I fear my balls will slap against the plastic base like two sloppy dollops of Play-doh.
STEP 4: Repeat the above, stretching up and down as if in an exercise class, until all of the glass wall is completely free of rogue droplets.
STEP 5: Turn 90 degrees and follow the same procedure with tiled wall only to find that, as I bend, my arse cheeks leave a soggy, two-crescent imprint on the previously cleansed glass which then requires more strokes of my squeegee.
STEPS 6 to 12: Repeat all the above, involving a psychedelic kaleidoscope of gangly bits and hairy rump.
So each morning I spend a half-hour in the bathroom: five minutes to shower and 25 minutes to clean the damn thing. But it does continue to sparkle.