Morning

This morning, after my shower, I remained standing in the bath. I swung a black towel around myself and pretended to be a Knight Hospitaller - dying of thirst in a Persian or Mesopotamian desert. The shower-head was a moist plant, emanating its last beads of sweat as it wilted in the sun. I positioned myself, staring straight up at it, mouth agape. So focused was I on this one fat globule of water - moving and re-moving my mouth so as to exert minimal energy when it actually dropped – that I was surprised and startled as two smaller driblets landed in my eyes. I slipped on the bath’s wet surface and fell through the glass around the shower, bouncing off of the sink and landing on the floor. Before I passed out I could have sworn that I saw the hand and face of the Ayatollah Khomeini stretching towards me (whether it was a kind or aggressive gesture, I do not know). I came to as someone broke open the bathroom door. What the hell have you been doing!? Covered in blood, naked and half-draped in a towel I replied, Trying to have a fucking shower, do you mind?