I realize everyone is looking forward to the warm, sunny weather, but I’m not one of those people. The main reason is because I love to take hot baths. But in 95-degree weather, a hot bath can lead to…well, heatstroke…or maybe even death.
And I wouldn't want to drop dead while naked.
To me, a hot
bath is synonymous with total relaxation. The minute I feel stressed, I’m in
the bathroom running the water for my bath. And every time I have to shovel
snow and my back cries out in protest afterwards, nothing beats a nice long
soak.
The first ten years of my marriage, I was stuck with a bathtub that was so shallow, my navel never got wet. I actually had to lie flat on my back if I wanted to soak. So when my current house was built, I insisted on having a tub that practically was big enough to swim laps in.
The first time I was able to stretch out in the up-to-my-neck soaking tub, I thought I’d died and gone to heaven. And to make my soaks even more heavenly, I bought a small, flat-screen TV and had it installed on the wall facing the tub. I was fully prepared to live in the bathroom.
My late husband, however, a devoted shower person, couldn’t have cared less about the tub. In fact, he always hated baths. He thought nothing was more boring than sitting in a tub of water. He also made no secret of how disgusting he thought baths were.
“You’re sitting in your own filth when you take a bath!” he’d say. “How can that be considered clean? The dirt has nowhere to go – you’re trapped in the tub with it. At least when you take a shower, the dirt goes down the drain and away from your body. Now, that’s clean!”
Filth? Dirt? He made me sound as if I were an old sow, out rolling in the mud every day.
One night, however, when my husband was feeling achy all over, I managed to convince him to try taking a nice long soak. I even ran the bath water for him. But, as I previously mentioned, I’m the type who likes really hot baths – the kind that turn my skin pink. So when I drew the bath for him, I, out of habit, used mostly hot water.
I was sitting out in the living room when he stepped into the tub. All I heard was, “Aaaaagggghhh! What are you trying to do, boil me alive? Now I know how those poor lobsters feel!”
Needless to say, that was his first and last bath in the new house.
I hate to say it, but having the bathtub of my dreams these past 12 years has had a few negative effects. For one, soaking isn’t a spontaneous thing – it involves a complicated process of getting prepared and gathering all of my bathing necessities: moisturizing soap, razor, washcloth, bath towel, something to drink (hot baths make me thirsty), the remote control for the TV, my telephone, bath pillow, a snack, my exfoliating sponge and a rubber band to tie up my hair.
By the time I have everything ready for my bath, I have to add more hot water.
And phone calls always are a little awkward when I’m soaking.
“Hi!” the caller, usually one of my friends, will say. “What’re you doing?”
“Oh, I’m just soaking in the bathtub right now,” I answer.
A period of heavy silence commonly follows. I’m not sure if it’s because the caller is surprised to hear I’m talking on the phone while in the tub, or if the vision that my naked body brings to mind is so shocking and disturbing, it renders the person speechless.
But
now that spring is here and the warmer weather rapidly is approaching, I realize
my days of taking long, hot baths are numbered. So I’m going to try to squeeze
in as many of them as possible before the inevitable heat and humidity arrive.
In
fact, you never know...I just might be writing this while I’m soaking.
# # #
Sally Breslin is an
award-winning syndicated humor columnist who has written regularly for
newspapers and magazines all of her adult life. She is the author of several
novels in a variety of genres, from humor and romance to science fiction.
Contact her at: sillysally@att.net
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