Spanish Bidet

Isn’t that tile work beautiful?

When we got to our hotel room in Spain, there it was. Right in front of the toilet, silently offering us its services. A bidet. I always wondered, why would you need that? What are you doing in the bathroom that you need to hose off afterward? I thought about googling it, but I was afraid something would come up that I would wish I could un-see. After playing with the faucet to see what kind of water flow it had, I just left it alone.

My husband shaves his head because he likes zero-maintenance hair. Every morning, he washes his whole head in the bathroom sink, dries it, shaves his facial hair, and is done. Easy peasy. If the bathroom sink is too small, he uses the kitchen sink. In hotels with small bathroom sinks and no kitchen, he’s in trouble.

That’s when it happened. One morning, he yelled from the bathroom, “Hey, this really works!” Now, I’m happy when any of my family members get satisfaction in the bathroom, but suspicious when they announce it so enthusiastically.

He had washed his head in the bidet.

I did not ask how close he got to the part of the apparatus where people have put their heinies. I did not ask how he got his head under the water faucet. Did he squat? Kneel? Bend over? I don’t know.

Marriage needs some mystery.

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