104

I feel lucky to know this number. I don't know anybody else who knows this number, except for the two people who own this condo. This number is the temperature that I like my shower. And the reason I know this is because The Owners have a shower in which the water temperature is controlled by thermostat, not two battling knobs like in MY shower at home, where I can spend hours adjusting the hot and cold in a futile attempt to reach water perfection: 'I need a little more hot. No, now a little more cold. No, wait, now a little LESS cold. Okay, that's it. Wait. No, more cold. No, too cold! Let's add more hot..." And then the gods of showerland decide to play a joke once I am content, and shift the temperature three degrees, causing me to restart the entire process. A shower for me takes twenty minutes. Ten of these minutes are solely devoted to finding a temperature that isn't burning off a layer of my skin or causing me to lie in the bottom of the tub doing my best Snowden impression.

Except for here. Wonderland. This is a shower I look forward to jumping in. I could spend hours in this shower. (And maybe I do. I'm not telling.) Because all I have to do is turn the knob to 104 and climb in. And BAM! Shower nirvana. My body becomes so enthralled, so gloriously overjoyed, that I can't move for sheer bliss.

My goal in life has now shifted. No longer will I pursue wealth as a means of happiness. I will pursue wealth as a means of owning a shower JUST LIKE THIS.