But it wasn’t funny at the moment. Why does that happen? Why can’t we see the humor at the time?
I know why, in this case. I was soaking wet.
I’ll back up a bit.
A few days ago, we drove to Tel Aviv; ISHI, me, and my cold. My cold has been with me now since all the outsiders left on Sunday. It won’t leave, even with the medicine, tea, and sleep I’m throwing at it. So even though we had a lovely day and enjoyed the sunshine on our walk from the Tel Aviv Museum of Art down to the sea, at the end of it, I was exhausted.
And so when our daughter tells us that ISHI is now scheduled to speak at her school that evening, we figured we would first return to her home in Efrat, then drive into Jerusalem, which would ironically be faster than driving straight to Jerusalem. But that’s normal for here, where things don’t necessarily make sense, but somehow or another work.
Or don’t. But that’s another issue.
Actually, that is the issue here.
So I asked if my cold and I could stay here with the kids while ISHI and my daughter went into the school. I’m not stupid; I knew that it would be more work to be here with the kids, but I thought I could get to bed earlier this way.
When it was time for showers, the first of the two boys went into their shower, which had just been repaired that day with a new showerhead. They’ve been struggling with water pressure problems since Day 1 in this apartment; since I’ve been here, they’ve also been struggling with landlord problems, or perhaps that’s just the lack of pressure showing up there, too. So the boy in the shower is taking a very long time making sure that the water is juuusst right, and then he takes a very long time making sure that the soap is really really off, and then he comes out. The floor at this point is a bathtub itself–he didn’t tuck the shower curtain inside. Thankfully I’m wearing my waterproof shoes (among things to be very grateful for).
So boy #2 goes in. He’s usually pretty self-sufficient. But this time, he screams out, “The water isn’t going on me!” I go into the bathroom with the baby in one hand (wait–I didn’t mention that the baby had been screaming like she had a diaper pin open in her side, so I had scooped her up in hopes she would get comforted and go back to sleep) and try to see what’s going on with the showerhead.
You guessed it–it had somehow moved directions to be spraying out. Directly at me.
I swung around so the baby wouldn’t get wet, closed the shower curtain, and then tried to move it again.
Did I mention I had a lousy cold and really wasn’t thinking straight? Yes, of course, I should have turned off the water and tried to reposition the showerhead. But no, I had to try again, and so I got shot again.
This time, I just told him to turn off the water and go take a shower in his parents’ bathroom. So by then, of course, there was no hot water left. Or he didn’t have patience to wait for that to heat up juuussst right. I told him he was clean enough and could skip the bath that night.
By this point, I didn’t care if the baby did have a pin stuck in her; I just put her down in her crib and went downstairs to change my wet wet clothes.
Did I mention I had a cold?
Yes, I think I did.
By the way, the baby fell asleep immediately, or was too traumatized to say anything at all.
By the way, I still have the cold or it still has me. I went to the doctor today and he told me it was in my sinuses by feeling my pulse the Chinese way.
That worked really well. Along with the Western medicine he prescribed. The pharmacist said it may make me drowsy, so I shouldn’t drive a tank today.
Probably very good advice.
So here are some photos from Tel Aviv, from the Tel Aviv Museum of Art to Dizzengoff St to the sea.