Chapter Three
Circling The Bay
The alarm clock sounded at 7 am. Lazily, I arose and ambled down the stairs, out the garden door and directly to my backyard shower. Mounted against a large green water catchment tank, the outside shower was one of the premier features of my coffee shack. It had one of those old fashioned shower heads — the round metal flathead kind that you so often find on farms that were built in the 50's era. For my money, the best shower head ever made... no need to adjust the spray, strictly high volume water flow and maximum body coverage from straight above.
Personally, I love outdoor showers. For one thing, the bathroom mirror never gets steamed up, although, I must say, I never found out where the water went. Once it rolled off the lava rock floor and under the water tank it just disappeared. I guess the porous lava-rock soil soaked it all up. I never saw even a hint of a puddle, nor did I ever give it much thought. All I knew was that it went away just like shower water is supposed to. Fine by me.
Another great thing was...
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