In Pursuit of Environmental Perfection

Next up: reducing water usage. I was reading that the Sierra snowpack is at 46 percent of normal, the fourth lowest level since 1919, when they started measuring, and that we may have mandatory restrictions on water usage later this year, with fines for those who don’t comply. Scofflaws may even have their water turned off.

My thoughts turned guiltily to my (almost-)daily 30-or-so-minute shower. I think the building manager disapproves of how long my showers are because now and then she says to someone doing work in my apartment, “I have to go take a shower, which will take me ONLY FIVE MINUTES, so I won’t be available for FIVE MINUTES, but then I’ll be around again after that. IN FIVE MINUTES!”

Once in a while, I have tried to reduce the length of my showers, but I can’t figure out how to do it. I mean, what body part am I not going to wash? I know some people take three- or five-minute showers, but I’m far from convinced they’re actually daisy-fresh.

A certain compulsive approach is probably part of the problem: Making sure the washcloth is thoroughly soaked, lathering it with soap three or four times in a row for a half-inch buildup, washing one foot: rub-a-dub-dub and a rub-a-dub-dub! Is it really clean? RUB-A-DUB-DUB AND A RUB-A-DUB-DUB! Then the other foot, after re-soaping the washcloth, of course.

I go through a bar of Ivory soap a week.

And then there’s the exfoliation phase, employing a nice firm brush. The last time I visited my parents, I found a suspiciously pliant back brush in my father’s shower. “I don’t understand how you remove a layer of skin with that,” I said later. The next time I took a shower, I saw he’d supplied a brand-new back brush, though he probably hadn’t planned to remove it from the cupboard for a year. That was very hospitable.

The other day, I finally started to use the little lever that turns the water off right at the showerhead. When you turn the water back on, it’s more or less at the same temperature. I used much, much less water—mainly just when actually rinsing—but was kind of chilly when it wasn’t running, so the next evening, I didn’t open the window all the way, and that was better.

Because the window wasn’t open so far, I could leave the door open; I’ve had to close it for the past six months to keep Hammett from hopping out the window, which means everything in the bathroom ends up dripping with condensation and the mirror takes ten minutes to unfog. But now, with less water running and the door open, there is no condensation, and the mirror doesn’t get fogged up and there’s no water on the floor near the tub to speak of. A win-win-win-win! Plus Hammett can come in now and then to see how things are going.

However, if they are going to do water rationing later this year, maybe it’s imprudent to implement this now, because I definitely won’t be able to reduce my water usage any farther after this, other than by flushing the toilet less. (Well, so I say now, but I’m sure there are things that could happen to change my perspective dramatically.)

A coworker suggested showering at a friend’s house to save water. Crafty!

Someone once told me, possibly joking, that when he writes any computer program, he includes a pause of however long, say, 20 seconds. Then, when someone inevitably says, “This is great, but can’t you make it run faster?”, he takes out the pause.

So maybe I should stick with my previous shower method and demonstrate a dramatic improvement when the rationing begins.

I have concluded that Hernerakkan (Scandinavian yellow split pea soup) is horrible and have been having pasta with tomato sauce for dinner this week, using sauce I made previously and froze. I mentioned this dish to Eva and she was enthusiastic, but she said the recipe she remembers does not have parsnips or turnips in it. I’m sure this would have been much better omitting those ingredients, and also if I’d mixed it up after pureeing. There were some spoonfuls that were pure parsnip or turnip: yucky.

Yesterday evening Tom helped me take my box spring back out of the closet. A week or so ago, I slept on the mattress on the box spring (softer) and woke up early in the morning with my back really bothering me. The next night, I put the mattress on the floor (harder) and it helped, suggesting I need a firmer mattress.

But two nights ago, I slept on the mattress on the floor (harder) and woke up needing a lot of stretching. Last night, I slept on the mattress on the box spring (softer) and needed a bit less stretching, suggesting I need a softer mattress, according to my genial McRoskey salesperson.

Tomorrow I will go test a step firmer and a step softer. Maybe the one I have is just right.

The Hammett will be one year old tomorrow!