I took the best shower today. I stayed in there until my fingers got pruny. It's the one place where everything seems possible again. It's a good place to cry, too... you still step out with the telltale puffy eyes but all the tears go down the drain. It's efficient. And nothing smells as good as shampoo, at least when you're in there. When I was a kid I would stay in the shower forever. I can't believe my mom let me. She was probably just glad that I was out of her hair for awhile. I would put a washcloth over 4 shampoo bottles and make a jungle hut for Barbie. It was the most satisfying thing. I always wanted Tub Town. I think Kevin Costner's horrendous display of flagrantly splurging on poo -- Waterworld -- was a result of him never having Tub Town as a kid. Of course Tub Town wasn't around until the 70's so maybe he was just inspired by his kids' Tub Town. And you know what happens when you make something "for the kids." It's generally bad. Anyway, I have a really nice stereo but for some reason the sound system that gets the most play in my house is the crappy little 4-inch long mini boom box in the bathroom that came with a bunch of brie my sister sent me from Omaha steaks. Funny about that brie, too -- I happened to step into a party at my neighbors' across the hall when I lived in Brookline (birthplace of J.F.K.) and when one of the 6 foot blonde Nordic hosts opened the fridge to get me a beer (it was like Rolling Rock pony bottles or something), there was all my brie! Now, I don't know why anyone would need that much brie in the first place but it was rightfully MY brie, grotesque or not. They kind of laughed it off and I raised my eyebrows and they politely handed me the brie. They were ok guys, I guess. They had a little dog they called "Jammy" after Jamiroquoi. They tried to be clever. It was the downstairs neighbor who was a nightmare. One night my cat Amelia must have gotten out without anyone noticing. The next morning I was frantically searching for her and ran all over the building, until I got downstairs and heard her meow, which I know well because it often drives me crazy. Well, I could hear the guy inside telling her to shut up! I couldn't believe it. I had visions of my little triangle-head cat all whored up with a faded silk rose behind her ear and blue eyeshadow they had smudged on her, surrounded by seething machismo. So I'm in total amazement because I'm banging on the door and the guy is telling her to shut up and I'm all red and pleading, like, "that's my cat!" Finally I tell him I'm going upstairs to call the police if he doesn't open the door right at that moment, that I KNOW my own cat's meow and he should be ashamed of himself. Finally the jackass opens the door and Amelia runs out to me and I scoop her up. If that had been today the guy would have been mad sorry but it was 4 years ago and I was a meeker milder me. I was just so glad to have her back. That was a weird building. We used to practice in the basement and I would see bugs with shadows run by.