The tradesman who has been expected every day for two months to patch up some bathroom sealant comes and does the job while you're still in your pyjamas (at lunchtime). It's the day you need to bare your bits to the gyno surgeon and you can't use the shower until tomorrow.
Sigh. Top and tail time, kiddies.
Postscript: problem solved! Zoe is home! With a working shower! And she wishes she had glittery soap for me, but we all decided a few weeks ago that glitter is the herpes of the craft world, so I'm glad she doesn't.