“Now you’re just depressing me,” I moaned, chastising myself. Steeling my will, I rolled out of bed and to my feet. I grabbed my fluffy white towel off the door hook, and shuffled out of my room. The hallway mirror caught me mid-yawn, my brown shoulder-length hair a rat’s nest, my dull grey eyes bleary.

Yikes! So not a morning person. I stumbled into the bathroom.

My bathroom at the end of the hall was small; the free-standing, clubfoot tub dominated what little space there was, a leftover from a late 19th century renovation. Even though my second anniversary living here had passed three months ago, it was still a surprise to look above the toilet and not see a water tank mounted on the wall. Instead, the brand new model sat crammed in the corner between the wall and the tub, completely out of place. But then again, anything younger than the 1920s just looked weird in this house.

I turned on the shower and brushed my teeth while I waited for the water to get hot. Of course, that would only be if I was lucky. Mom and Dad joked about how our house was like a grumpy old man who just needed a lot of love, but as far as I was concerned, it was a total pain. Nothing made me miss San Diego more than a temperamental New England water heater on a cold autumn morning.

When the pipes started knocking, I knew the water was finally ready. I tossed my pajamas into the hamper and stepped into the shower, carefully trying not to slip. I’d slipped so many times coming in and out of the tub, I could swear it was out to get me. I swear, someday I would knock myself unconscious with the faucet running, and drown. In a bathtub. How awful would that be?

The water was as hot as it could get, but it was just warm enough. The windows and mirror were fogging up from the steam already, but to step an inch out of the spray was to get hit by a wall of cold air. Brrrrrh, I thought. It wasn’t even October yet, but I could tell another New England winter was right around the corner. Great.

I reached for the shampoo and worked it into my hair, trying to tease the knots out. For hair that was so straight and dull, it was thick. Mom kept telling me I should try sleeping with it braided, but it just kept slipping out of the braid, or I would just plain forget. The last of the shampoo rinsed out, I slathered on the conditioner, letting it sit while I grabbed my loofah. My conditioner smelled like coconuts and my body wash like orange blossoms. I closed my eyes and tried to pretend I was back in California.