It’s not a sentence you read everyday. It’s not really the sort of thing that you ever expect to write. Nonetheless, it happened.
My shower head has been minus its diffuser thingy-me-bob for a while now, and bath time at mine provides an experience not too dissimilar to standing under a tall, fast flowing and extremely cold tap (there’s no hot water at the new place). We’d been out of electricity for a few days, which always seems to affect the water as well and Tanzanian pipe systems being what they are, the frog had ample time and enough holes to choose from to climb in to what he probably felt was his own private Eden…until the water came back on.
I’m sure it was a frightening experience for him but as far as I’m concerned it pales into insignificance in comparison to the sensation of having something flop around on your naked top half whilst your rinsing soap off your face.
As a friend pointed out, if the diffuser had been there, he’d have got caught in my shower head and I’d have been showering in decaying frog juice by now, blissfully unaware. I suppose my experience could be seen as the lesser of two evils.
As you can see he’s fine – panicked flailing did not finish him off and he was deposited outside.
I’m starting to get a real thing about getting in showers at the moment…