Yesterday with my head stuck in the bathroom sink I made an important decision.
A mysterious stomach ache (swallowed too much plaster?) had sent me straight to bed before I cleaned up my gross self, and I needed to wash my hair when I woke up. Simple enough, unless your faucet tries to trap you.
I want — my life depends on — one of those higher, arched, old-fashioned bathroom faucets. And a fancy-pants medium sized sink. That way, washing my hair won’t feel like self-induced Chinese water torture.
I can do it. Watch me splurge.