Worst. Movie. Ever. / by Courtney Mehlhaff

I think I watch too many movies.

This pains me to say, but I had a moment the other day when the lines between reality and the cinematic universe became almost too blurred for my comfort.

Try not to get worked up about this image, but I was in the shower. I have an extra-wide shower head, which I love because it arcs a little higher than most, and as a tall chick I don't have to bend backward like a contortionist to rinse the shampoo out of my hair. 

But it also has a smaller shower wand that rests in the middle, with a very twisty hose. And when I accidentally bump this hose (which is just about every day), the wand dislodges and clatters noisily into the bathtub, scaring the shit out of me and likely my neighbors. 

About a week ago, I once again clipped this hose with an elbow as I was turning around. But this time, without even looking, I reached a hand behind me and caught the wand in mid-air. Like, just reflexively snatched it perfectly as it fell.

And, because I watch too many movies, there was a split second where I froze and thought:

"Am . . . am I a super hero?"

Granted, the ability to catch plummeting shower wands would be the lamest super power ever bestowed on your average protagonist. Plus, I couldn't recall any recent contact with radioactive spiders or gamma rays.

I fully realize that it was either a total fluke or some weird clumsy muscle memory, and I couldn't do it again if I tried. But in the moment, it truly felt like some amazing new skill was being revealed to me. Suddenly. Randomly. In my late 30s. While naked. 

That's never the case.