|The Allure of the Hot Bath
||[Oct. 10th, 2008|08:44 am]
Thanks to everyone for their kind suggestions. I'm hopeful, though the pain can be absolutely breathtaking at times, it comes and goes, and the grinding dull ache the rest of the time seems to be less, umm, mind-consuming. Which means it's either shown slight improvement or I'm getting used to it. Now, if only I can convince myself to continue to act like an invalid to let things heal. Yah. Right.|
Three Fingered Salute suggested a hot bath and that got me to thinking. A lot of people love a good soak in a tub but for some reason, I can't think of anything less appealing.
For starters, I would have to schedule it for right after a good bathroom cleaning. Because it would have to be spotless. Nothing ruins relaxation like noticing cat hair gathered in the corners, or soap scum remnants on the underside of the soap dish, which are easily ignored while showering...or cleaning, but I have, over the years, found my relaxing soak turned into me, crouched naked in the tub, obsessively scraping off soap remnants from underneath the soap dish. It's hard to get the magic back after that.
And setting the atmosphere...I do have lovely bath oils, although frankly, the last thing clutzy me needs is to make the tub surface MORE slick. It's a shame, because they are really high end English scented oils that you can blend yourself -- I favor blending geranium and rose with a hint of nutmeg and marjoram. They've now become my pedicure treat, although I should work on the romance of that, too -- since while it smelled good, sitting in front of the television with my feet in a big stainless steel mixing bowl, I realize, lacks a certain amount of atmosphere. No wonder I rely on others to pamper me.
And candles...by the time I gather the candles, set them all up, rifle through the drawer for the stick lighter, curse because it's almost out of fluid, try holding it upside down and shaking it, give up, trot back downstairs for matches....then I'm fire-impaired enough to need to light a new match for each and every candle, so now the sulfur smell is fighting with the geranium-rose-nutmeg-marjoram and it's starting to smell like an herbed poundcake from hell has been baking in the bathroom.
Well, at this point, I'm exhausted, and ready to sink into the tub. But the water's still too hot. I'm not a hot water person. Ever? Or just since I taught infant and child swimming at the YMCA and I began to associate the superwarm kiddy pool with umm, accidents? I dunno. But I am a hot water wussy, too. Ow, ow, ow...if I'm sharing a hot tub with you, it's because I really, really want to spend time with you. Because my idea of fun is NOT being boiled like a lobster. So, the water finally cools enough so that I can lower myself in there.
And then I realize that I've forgotten my book. (No, you think I can just lay there and relax? Bored. Bored. Bored.) So I get the book, get back in, get the book wet, be glad it's not a library book.
Then I have to decide what will be submerged -- chest or knees. And I think to myself how nice it would be to have a tub that is big enough to actually submerge in. Maybe I'd find this whole thing more pleasant if I could completely submerge. Or, if a tub bottom was made of memory foam. Because now my butt hurts. And my neck. So I reach up and grab a hand towel to prop behind my neck. Which immedidately slides into the water when I shift my butt. Which is fine, until it's been back out of the water for a while and now it's getting cold. But I'm going to ignore that. And am contemplating getting out and grabbing an actual towel to put under my butt. Because no matter how fat my ass is, my body refused to store any actual fat on the tips of my seatbones.
The cold drip of water from the showerhead reminds me that I really need to replace that washer. I'm beginning to wonder if I can possibly convince myself to go straight from the tub to bed -- or am I going to feel the need to shower off first? And how I'd really enjoy hot tubs more if I didn't feel the need to shower off all of the chemicals afterwards and really, I'd enjoy the whole experience more if I knew less about bacteria.
Which is about when Mouse leaps up onto the bathroom counter to investigate and sets her long-haired self on fire....
For starters, I guess, it's teh