Back in February, I got caught in a Dolphin shower.
It was a pretty dangerous situation; nothing short of attempted murder, actually. There I was, just minding my own business, when Bride of Chucky's cold hand sneaked menacingly from behind the shower curtain in the direction of my dangly bits. Deftly side-stepping said hand, I failed to take into account the non-slip shower mat which promptly slipped from under my feet, causing my ankle to smash into the hot tap while gashing my hand on a couple of tiles I'd carelessly dislodged on the way down. Luckily, I managed to prevent further injury by using the back of my head on the bath to break my fall.
It was so funny we nearly phoned for an ambulance; and whilst it may have been a harrowing and intensely painful experience, it was worth it just to see her cackling with glee as I lay writhing in agony in our blood-spattered bathroom. Of course she was full of remorse later -- because she hadn't filmed the entire event on her mobile.
Luckily, I was almost able to walk again by the following day, so Mistress of Evil sent me to the supermarket next door to do some shopping. Then, once I'd hobbled back home, attempted to finish a cup of coffee I'd made 15 minutes earlier, but scalded myself because she'd quietly just microwaved it to boiling-point.
Showers? I tend to prefer a nice relaxing bath these days.
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