Wednesday, July 6, 2016

Shower Door 1; Me 0

10 year-old frosted shower door, I concede. If I’m perfectly honest with myself, we never stood a chance. As hard as it may be to say this, we’re over. I cannot, no will not, fight with you anymore.
We started out well enough. You were sparkly and new which made me happy. Initially your frosting was an asset. I marveled at the fact that the distortion, in the right light, could make me look like a supermodel taking a shower, or a stand in for Halle Berry in a racy shower scene. But slowly, things took a turn for the worse.

No longer would the delicate, natural cleaners work so I needed to go industrial strength. Well…
Scrubbing Bubbles Burst;
Kaboom went Kabust;
Lysol just plain lied;
And Mr. Clean needs a new profession.

Your once interesting frosting just would not stay clean. Why? Is it because you could sense my resentment?

Your shiny, metal frame is now dull and no amount of polishing will fix it. It’s like a betrayal every time I walk by.
And I won’t even mention when one of your doors gets off the track.

It’s not you, it’s me. I’m being shallow. I’m sorry but we’ve come to the end of our journey. Let’s not linger.
Fare the well.

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