Then along came Bob. How can something as simple and soothing as a bath become toxic to my body? You know he's Beelzebub's right hand man when he can turn a bath over to the dark side. So now days not only are transfats and processed meats hazardous to my health but also the humble bath. Apparently it's my old nemesis Mr Heat striking yet again at my personal Gotham City (Watched Batman the other night, Christian Bale is so buff! Now there's some first rate eye candy. Mmmmmmm. But I digress. Focus Michelle. It aint that complex!). The heat of the bath can drop your blood pressure so swiftly its like bungee jumping at ground level with all the same free falling, complete lack of control and pants wetting fear as you plummet ever closer to the earth.
Thanks to my stubbornness, or maybe that's stupidity (I do have word finding difficulties at times), I have refused to give up my beloved bath. They have decreased in frequency but they are still a sinful treat I indulge in on occasion, thus giving Bob the proverbial finger.
So this is my simple step-by-step program to having a bath in the age of Bob.
- Have no expectations that all this will go to plan.
- Accept fact that you may need to go straight from bath to bed even though its only 7pm.
- Accept fact you may be wiped out for the whole of tomorrow.
- Fill bath with warm water. If hand goes red water is too hot, avoid bath like the plague.
- Add oils or bubble bath. The more luxurious the better, as this event does not happen frequently and should be celebrated. I like L'Occitane Lavender and Shea butter bath milks (thanks Honey).
- Realise you forgot to put the plug in. Repeat steps 4 and 5 but include plug.
- Note a niggling feeling like you have forgotten something. Watch 10 more minutes of TV. Remember you are filling bath. Run like a paniced drunken woman to bathroom.
- Turn water off when it gets to desired height. Don't wait for it to get to top of bath and leak out. This leads to swearing and cleaning and then you are too tired for bath. I go for a point somewhere between wrist and mid-forearm in depth.
- Grab large bottle of chilled water from fridge and place next to bath.
- Look at bottle of water wishing it was a chilled bottle of crisp savignon blanc, with subtle hints of gooseberry, passionfruit and fresh cut grass (say what! wine people are freaks).
- Realise the stupidity of even considering combining wine with a bath. Sigh and accept fact that there will be no wine.
- Return to kitchen yet again because you forgot the glass. Maybe I should just chug from bottle. No no I haven't sunk to that level yet. Glass it is.
- Place soap, face washer and shaver next to the bath. Realise you have a hope in hell of hand-eye coordination in said bath and put shaver back on shelf.
- Consider candles for mood purposes.
- Realise stupidity of allowing candles around a brain fogged and uncoordinated woman.
- Put candles away.
- Open windows and door to full and put on fan to ensure cool fresh air at all times.
- Grab lap top and place next to bath. Slowly realize that lap top and water is not a good combination and place lap top just near door.
- After 10 minutes of swearing work out how to get your favourites list on your computer music thingy to work. Turn volume up loud to mute the outside world, but not so loud that no one can hear you just in case you can't get out of bath.
- Sit down to collect self for 5 mins.
- Water should now be at the optimal, not really warm and not too cold, temperature.
- Hold onto wall, toilet, shower screen or towel rack to ensure you don't go arse up as you step into the bath.
- Lay down as flat as possible. Preferable to keep head above water.
- Stick legs up wall in elegant pose.
- Accept fact that despite best efforts you may only be able to stand 5 mins in actual bath.
- Start chugging water.
- Attempt token use of soap. Realise it is too much effort and that the bath milk/oil/bubble stuff in the water will dissolve any things that may require soap to remove. Place soap back next to bath.
- Accept fact that my husband will stick his head in repeatedly to supposedly check that I am still "ok".
- Enjoy 30 minutes of normality.
- Realise belatedly that the water is now like ice. Time to get out.
- Let out water whilst remaining in bath. Keep legs up wall during this process, and if needed for an additional 5 mins. Ignore fact that you are lying wet in an empty bath with your entire naked pruned body exposed to the world.
- Crawl out over side off bath.
- Sit on bath mat with head down between knees.
- Chug yet more water.
- Ignore fact that you are about to burst your bladder thanks to the 2 litres of water you have consumed in last half hour.
- Manage to dry and dress self whilst seated on tiles.
- Lie on blissfully cool tiles for 10 mins.
- Drag yourself to loo as your bladder has now reached critical.
- Rejoice in fact you made it to loo in time.
- Crawl slowly from loo to bed.
- Snuggle down in total blissful exhaustion.
- Celebrate the fact that you have just proved you are still a normal and real girl.
- Realise in your ever thickening brain fog that this may not in fact have happened and that you will need to check with David tomorrow.
- Fall into comatosed sleep.
- Wake up next day, realise (double checking with David) that you were in fact a "Real Girl" for 30 mins yesterday. Start day with a little boost of happiness.
Undine aka Michelle :)