I haven’t had a bath in decades. Seriously! The last one was probably in the 80’s, but I can’t even imagine what circumstance would have driven me to sit in a tub of warm H2O while the sweat and grime of the day contaminated the once crystal clear water. The warm water is destined to cool to 24.5 degrees below body temperature, and how do you wash your hair? I certainly wouldn’t want to rinse it in that water. Give me the joy of a shower any day! It’s like bathing in a waterfall . . . with a drain of course. The water maintains perfect temp and the dirt and grime are immediately washed away.
So how did this sad story come about? I was brainwashed. I am house-sitting for a lovely family who is serving Christ in China. During the walk-through before their departure, Linda told me to be good to myself and take a luxurious bubble bath in their master bath Jacuzzi. How do you ignore the advice of a woman packing up her husband, 4 children and full-sized poodle to live on the other side of the planet?
And then there is my sister, Angie. It is a well-known fact that she is a bath-o-holic. I’ve heard rumor that she has “lounged” in that tepid, stagnant water for hours! Personally, I think it’s just an escape tactic. She has 2 dogs, a husband, 6 children, 3 grandchildren, 2 more on the way, and she watches OPK’s (other people’s kids). Who wouldn’t need to hide behind a locked door?!
The final straw that pushed me over the edge was my new son-in-law’s mother, Pam. I invited Pam over for dinner. While touring the house she went crazy over the Jacuzzi. She made it sound so dreamy with candles and a good book. Wow! Maybe I’d been missing out all these years.It’s Friday morning and I don’t have to be at work till 2:00 P.M. This is it! B-Day! I turned on the faucet and began filling the ginormous tub. Remember that word from your childhood? Ginormous, the marriage of giant and enormous, can be found in Webster’s dictionary. It’s so big that I ran out of hot water and had to add boiling water from my tea kettle. As the water level slowly rose, I added a small amount of bath gel and gathered the mandatory candles, candle-lighter, book, reading glasses, towel, washcloth, shampoo, conditioner, cell phone, and perfectly brewed cup of Passionate Peach tea. I was ready.
It was perfect. I slipped lithely into the water, turned on the jets, closed my eyes and laid my head back. A few minutes of relaxation and I was ready to grab for my tea and the book. As I opened my eyes, I was shocked to see the height of the bubbles. I had only added a “small” amount of bath gel, but the jets had multiplied them 10-fold . . . 100-fold . . . 1000-fold! I didn’t want to bring my book and tea into this, so I decided to lie back and wait for them to dissipate. Before I knew it, the bubbles were about to cover my mouth and nose. Can you drown in bubbles? I began to panic. I shut off the jets and tried to tame the savage beast with the sprayer. It seemed to help, so I turned the jets back on and tried to relax again . . . with one eye open of course.
They were back! This time with a vengeance. There were no less than a gazillion bubbles and the number was growing geometrically. They had snuffed out my candles and were bearing down on my tea and book. My towel, once neatly folded and awaiting my blissful exit, had already lost its battle. Luckily, my cell phone had been knocked to the ground during the first onslaught. For the moment, it was out of harm’s way. Where was my sister, the experienced bath aficionado, when I needed her? I tried piling the mountain of bubbles alongside the tub, but there were simply too many of them. When they reached the bottom of the window, I stood and attempted to tame them with the sprayer again, but it was futile. I was significantly outnumbered. The final blow was glancing in the mirror as I stood against the enemy. I looked like the Pillsbury Doughboy from Ghostbusters. I was covered with white foam and surrounded by 5-feet of white fluff. That picture above is a lie from the depths of Google image hell. That's not reality!
In defeat, I unceremoniously climbed out of the tub and headed for the shower, trailing 6-inch piles of bubbles as each foot hit the ground. Questions were spinning through my mind as the warm, clear water washed over me, destroying the enemy. “Would I ever be able to face the Jacuzzi again?” “Should I tell anyone of my shameful, failed attempt at a bubble bath?” “Will this scar me for life?” “Are Linda, Angie and Pam complete idiots?!” Let’s face it. No one has ever heard of “Baths of blessings”. It’s “Showers of Blessings”. That’s good enough for me.
So how did this sad story come about? I was brainwashed. I am house-sitting for a lovely family who is serving Christ in China. During the walk-through before their departure, Linda told me to be good to myself and take a luxurious bubble bath in their master bath Jacuzzi. How do you ignore the advice of a woman packing up her husband, 4 children and full-sized poodle to live on the other side of the planet?
And then there is my sister, Angie. It is a well-known fact that she is a bath-o-holic. I’ve heard rumor that she has “lounged” in that tepid, stagnant water for hours! Personally, I think it’s just an escape tactic. She has 2 dogs, a husband, 6 children, 3 grandchildren, 2 more on the way, and she watches OPK’s (other people’s kids). Who wouldn’t need to hide behind a locked door?!
The final straw that pushed me over the edge was my new son-in-law’s mother, Pam. I invited Pam over for dinner. While touring the house she went crazy over the Jacuzzi. She made it sound so dreamy with candles and a good book. Wow! Maybe I’d been missing out all these years.It’s Friday morning and I don’t have to be at work till 2:00 P.M. This is it! B-Day! I turned on the faucet and began filling the ginormous tub. Remember that word from your childhood? Ginormous, the marriage of giant and enormous, can be found in Webster’s dictionary. It’s so big that I ran out of hot water and had to add boiling water from my tea kettle. As the water level slowly rose, I added a small amount of bath gel and gathered the mandatory candles, candle-lighter, book, reading glasses, towel, washcloth, shampoo, conditioner, cell phone, and perfectly brewed cup of Passionate Peach tea. I was ready.It was perfect. I slipped lithely into the water, turned on the jets, closed my eyes and laid my head back. A few minutes of relaxation and I was ready to grab for my tea and the book. As I opened my eyes, I was shocked to see the height of the bubbles. I had only added a “small” amount of bath gel, but the jets had multiplied them 10-fold . . . 100-fold . . . 1000-fold! I didn’t want to bring my book and tea into this, so I decided to lie back and wait for them to dissipate. Before I knew it, the bubbles were about to cover my mouth and nose. Can you drown in bubbles? I began to panic. I shut off the jets and tried to tame the savage beast with the sprayer. It seemed to help, so I turned the jets back on and tried to relax again . . . with one eye open of course.
They were back! This time with a vengeance. There were no less than a gazillion bubbles and the number was growing geometrically. They had snuffed out my candles and were bearing down on my tea and book. My towel, once neatly folded and awaiting my blissful exit, had already lost its battle. Luckily, my cell phone had been knocked to the ground during the first onslaught. For the moment, it was out of harm’s way. Where was my sister, the experienced bath aficionado, when I needed her? I tried piling the mountain of bubbles alongside the tub, but there were simply too many of them. When they reached the bottom of the window, I stood and attempted to tame them with the sprayer again, but it was futile. I was significantly outnumbered. The final blow was glancing in the mirror as I stood against the enemy. I looked like the Pillsbury Doughboy from Ghostbusters. I was covered with white foam and surrounded by 5-feet of white fluff. That picture above is a lie from the depths of Google image hell. That's not reality!
In defeat, I unceremoniously climbed out of the tub and headed for the shower, trailing 6-inch piles of bubbles as each foot hit the ground. Questions were spinning through my mind as the warm, clear water washed over me, destroying the enemy. “Would I ever be able to face the Jacuzzi again?” “Should I tell anyone of my shameful, failed attempt at a bubble bath?” “Will this scar me for life?” “Are Linda, Angie and Pam complete idiots?!” Let’s face it. No one has ever heard of “Baths of blessings”. It’s “Showers of Blessings”. That’s good enough for me.
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