Nothing But Love :: golf blogger

We have lived in the same home for almost 18 years now. We've had this nice walk-in shower enclosure, big enough for two with molded seats on each side, for the whole time we've lived here, with sliding glass doors in a metal frame. You've see them. You may have one. I have been in and out of that shower at least once a day for all those years, many times twice a day, sometimes more.

Pavlov was wrong about that conditioning theory. Well, maybe dogs learn, but I never have. I've hit my head on the frame of the sliding glass door so many times I couldn't begin to count. If I could have harvested all the skin that got scraped off the top of my head, I would have kept the burn unit of Cleveland Metro General Hospital well stocked.

This morning was different, though -- not different in that I didn't hit my head. I did hit my head. Not the scraping kind of hit, the thwacking kind of hit. Don't ask me why. I slid open the door, turned and took a step. Usually I duck down a little. If I'm late in ducking, s-s-s-s-c-c-c-r-r-r-ape. But I didn't duck. Don't know why. First time for that. Thwack!

I looked down. Ball bearings -- ball bearings rolled on the shower floor. Six of them. I checked both of the doors. They slid effortlessly. No problem. I figure those weren't marbles that were rolling around loose in my head, but ball bearings. I feel so much better.