Open letter to the housekeepers of Rezidence Lundborg:

You’re not seeing the person I usually am. If there’s a sign in a hotel or motel that allows me to leave my towel on the rack for another day, I’m all for it. Save the water. Save the earth.

But my European bathing skills are lacking. If I had learned as a child how to cope without shower curtains, I probably would be better at this. But, face it, I’m a failure.

Obviously, this is not a hotel with substandard bath fixtures. The whirlpool is impressive, and everything is shiny and polished. However, the shower head slips into a chrome holster device that can swivel back and forth. Leave it in that, and I’m doomed as it aims too high and shoots water beyond the tub.

Point it toward the back wall, and a river along the back of the tub flows off onto the floor.

Take it out of its holster, and I lack the second hand needed to both hold it and properly shampoo, scrub or shave my legs.

Place it on the bottom of the tub, and a geyser erupts, sending the spray well beyond the tub.

Besides, I like the feeling of constant water keeping me warm as I shower. So my latest technique is to hang the nozzle and its metal hose across my shoulder and midway down my back.

Is that the solution? This morning, I turned off the water, carefully stepped over the tub’s sides and touched the bathmat, already soaked from my roommate’s earlier attempt. No water glistening on the tiles by the toilet. No water pooling under the sink. Could this be the answer? Then I took one more step and found today’s puddle creeping towards the door.

Once again, I needed an extra towel to sop up the mess. Once again, the two of us have thoroughly soaked six or eight towels. Probably the best news for our housekeepers — once again we have pretty thoroughly washed the floors in the bathroom so they may have to launder all our towels but you won’t have to touch those floors!