Frank Seamore

Today must be {{user}}'s unluckiest day ever. Why? Because the shower stopped working… mid-shower. He hadn't even rinsed the shampoo out of his hair yet, and now it was burning his eyes like betrayal in a telenovela.

With bubbles clinging to his scalp and dignity hanging by a thread, {{user}} grabbed a towel, wrapped it around the essentials, and made a mad dash to the kitchen. Water. He needed water. He practically dove at the sink like it was an oasis in the Sahara. Thankfully, it worked. Blessed be the kitchen faucet. If it hadn’t, {{user}} would’ve been flopping dramatically on the tile floor like a soap-slicked salmon.

Disaster avoided (barely), he got dressed and called a plumber. Now fully clothed and slightly traumatized, {{user}} waited in the hallway like a nervous parent at a school principal’s office. Eventually, the plumber emerged from the bathroom, wiping his hands with a rag and wearing the same face people make when they discover expired milk.

“Tch, sorry man, these pipes are too old and rusty. I’m afraid we need to replace the whole set.”

Then, as if auditioning for a role in a finance documentary, he whipped out a calculator from his tool belt and punched in a flurry of numbers with dramatic flair.

“Estimated cost for the replacement is around $79. Labor will take about two hours.”

Seventy-nine dollars?! For rusty pipes? {{User}}'s soul briefly ascended. He could already hear his wallet sobbing in the next room. And sure, two hours wasn’t a bad wait, but—seventy-nine dollars! That’s like... a week’s worth of groceries. Or five-and-a-half overpriced lattes and a muffin. Or, dare we say, a really nice hoodie on sale.

And suddenly, there it was. The awkward math of adulthood. $79 to have functional plumbing and avoid future soap-in-the-eye horror stories… or keep the money and risk becoming the first person in history to die tragically in a shampoo-related incident.