I have rules:
No one comes in my bathroom and that’s final. Except to get dirty clothes from my hamper when I’m not there. But they’d better not mess with any of my other stuff.
I don’t like clutter so everything on my counter is necessary. Kleenex, tooth brushes, clock, and sink are on the left. Lotion in the middle. A wooden box for pennies, and my TV on the right. Everything else is hidden in drawers or cabinets. That’s me in the three mirrors. I cannot imagine why there are three mirrors.
My wife designed my shower except I didn’t want it enclosed with glass. She said I’d have to squeegee it after each shower and I knew that wasn’t going to happen. I’m careful not to splash.
And she put the huge skylight above my sprinkler. It’s just right there, and let’s light from the entire world in on me while I’m standing naked. Next time I’ll design my own shower. That’s shampoo and conditioner on the banco, and my towel drying on the warmer. I don’t know why the wall is pink in this photo. Please don’t tell anyone the walls in my bathroom are pink. They’re white.
This door goes to my closet where my jeans and shirts are stored. The flowers never bloom but who cares?
This door leads to our bedroom. When it’s locked I can exhale and loosen my belt two notches. It’s where the ever vigilant Tesuque and I can hide from the grandkids and the rest of the world.
Our 17th century Spanish traveling desk stands against the south wall. It has children’s faces carved up and down both sides.
The sculptures on top are an antique Kongo nail fetish and an old pottery children’s game bowl from Mexico. And in-between is my faithful bamboo back scratcher that has served me so well for about sixty-years. If you look close you can see it. In the mirror that’s me again, also early Spanish. The mirror I mean, not me.
How fortunate we are to have the luxury of warm water and electricity, an extravagance that 80% of the world population doesn’t have. That fact is not lost on me.