All wet

For four days now, there has been no hot water in my apartment building.

The first day that the hot water was out, I took a cold shower and I'm still not over the shock. The second day, I stood in the shower and strategically splashed water on parts of my body, and the third day I smeared myself head to toe with deodorant and hoped to make it to sundown without having to stand close to anyone.

I went to bed last night praying that Tropical Storm Danny would pay a surprise call on L.A. If my prayers had been answered I planned to get up before dawn and run naked in the alley long enough to get soaked and lather and rinse my hair.

Well, no precipitation fell in Southern California this morning, so I had planned to skip the shower altogether and warn my co-workers that I think I have H1N1 virus and to stand 50 feet away. But while feeding myself breakfast through the G-tube I suddenly sneezed and 60 ml of Isosource erupted out of my syringe, dousing my body and my living room with high-nitrogen, high-calorie, vanilla-flavored ooze.

I needed a long, cleansing shower but was too much of a sissy to stand beneath cold water again.

My only options were to call in sick or go to the gym and use the showers there.

I haven't been to the gym since well before the end of the Bush administration. Part of the reason is that I haven't really had the energy to exercise but I also have been shy about showing my tubes in the locker room.

But today I had no other choice but to go to the gym, get naked and shower, rubber tubes and all.

I just gritted my gums and pretended like no one was looking, although I did catch a few guys staring at my tube hanging from my stomach, and it's hard to conceal the tube in my neck.

Whatever. I feel fresh as a daisy and I'm prepared to have a group hug with my co-workers, if that should be on today's agenda.

If the hot water crisis at my apartment building goes into a fifth day, I'm sure I'll go back to the gym tomorrow for a shower. Heck, I may even work out.