To sing or not to sing? It’s really not a question

I took myself off the shower tonight to contemplate tonight’s post. I kid myself that I do my best thinking in the shower. That all that steam is dislodging crusty old thoughts and sending inspiration into every cell. That blog posts will be written, break-out novels created, and perhaps a random sonnet in iambic pentameter will be created.

I kid myself.

All I managed to do in the shower tonight was to work my way through my current playlist of Shower Diva tunes. Including, but not limited to, What’s goin’ on? (Four Non Blondes), Unchained Melody (The Righteous Brothers… I know, who am I kidding?), Crazy (Patsy Cline) and The Raiders of The Lost Ark (theme tune – because no amount of steam seems capable of dislodging that damn tune from my head at present).

Before our renovations, when our bathroom was a deep, green hole in the middle of the Fibro, my shower concerts were not really a problem. There were no windows and nobody could hear me over the rattly old ventilation fan anyway.

Now that we have a pristine, white bathroom on the edge of the house, with a large window, I’m fairly sure that my neighbours are becoming all too familiar with the Shower Diva (and probably snickering behind the fence as we speak…).

But I care not. The Shower Diva has not one jot on the Callas of the Washing Line, who favours American folk tunes (a la O Brother Where Art Thou?) and is outside strutting her stuff (next to the very same fence) on a regular basis.

At least the Callas of the Washing Line
Kids herself not, her purpose is not great,
Just ask her and she’ll tell you straight out, Sir
I like to sing, in the sun, and breathe, mate.

Aren’t you glad you don’t live next door to the Fibro?

Are you a shower singer? What songs are on high rotation at your place? Have you ever tried to write anything in iambic pentameter (I don’t recommend it)?


[image: I need me a shower curtain like this one from Amazon.]