Bathmatics

For the past four years, something very dear to my heart has been notably absent from my life. 

A bathtub. 

Now, back in the comfort of my childhood home, I'm making up for lost time. I've already enjoyed five soaks since my return to the US two days ago. 

Me + bathtub = HEAVEN! 

Nothing can warm you up like a bath. It heats you to the bone. 

Even if you're not a "bath person", trust me, you don't know what you've got 'till it's gone (Mitchell, 1970). At least appreciate that you have the option to take one. Go give your tub a hug. 

When I was in junior high and high school, I would stay in the bath for hours, drinking peppermint tea and reading. As the minutes ticked by, the water would get cold, so I'd pour whatever was left in my mug over myself. It was gross. 

Nowadays, I can't stay in for longer than a few minutes. I'm intolerant to anything less than scalding. Also, I read on a Kindle now. No falling asleep with the bathwater nipping at my R.L. Stine paperback. Instead, I have to lean off the ledge to read safely away from the water's reach. It's far less comfortable and has shortened my bath time significantly. 

Facts about me and baths:

• When we were young kiddos, I pooped in a bath I was sharing with my sister Anna. I watched Anna attempt to catch the floating turd (she thought it was some sort of bath toy), before warning her at the last minute: "That's my poop!"

• I always sit in the tub while it fills up. I don't wait until it's full to get in. I've always done it this way. Not saying it's better, but just that old habits die hard. 

• In our family, growing up, a "bubble bath" meant squirting half a bottle of Dawn dish soap near the running faucet. It did a number on the skin, but boy did you get a lot of bubbles for your buck. Sometimes I would squirt the bottom of an empty tub with Dawn and slide back and forth on the slipery surface. Weeeee!!! It was fun, but for a good week afterward it would sting whenever I went pee. 

Speaking of baths, I just emerged from one. I was resting my jet-legs and trying to remember what I did this morning, which seems like months ago. That's what happens when you wake up at 5am. 

Be the jaysus; I'm tired. 

Splish-splash, 

Margaret