Yesterday was a huge day for me: We had a new water heater installed by two gentlemen during the late afternoon. We'd been meaning to purchase a new one since the Nashville Flood killed our original one and buried it in four feet of water, leaving it to yield lukewarm-at-best water ever since. That was six months ago. FEMA graciously cut us a check for the value of the water heater and we, of course, promptly spent it on something else--probably our trip to Tucson, AZ.
I've missed my baths. They've always been an essential part of my feel-good, feel-cool ritual. My husband, daughter and I stayed at a hotel in Asheville, NC, last weekend, and there was an epic bathtub in our room. It reminded me how very essential a bath is to me--sort of like taking my antidepressant or getting eight hours of sleep. When I was a teenager, I'd light a ridiculous number of candles, run a scalding bath that would turn my skin pink, tote my CD player into the tiny bathroom and turn on Sarah McLachlan, lock the door and just soak. Now that I have a kid, I'm really in need of those long, hot soaks again. "Me time" is a precious commodity around here. Also, I've been struggling with the art of doing nothing. I have trouble sitting still, trouble calming my mind, but that's about all you can do when you're sitting in a bathtub. Even reading tends not to go very well.
When I run that first bath later this morning, when Tessa is down for her nap, I will try to calm my mind. But my mind will probably be thinking about ... what a crap bathtub we have. It's one of those white plastic shower/tubs that our renovator obviously bought for a discount since it's had a ugly, scab-looking scar on it since day one. I've been trolling craigslist recently looking for the perfect clawfoot tub. I'm almost six feet tall so I definitely want one of the larger ones; I think the biggest of the vintage clawfoots comes in five and a half feet dimensions. I think I may ask my husband for a bathtub for Christmas.
Here are some of my favorite bathing beauties:
I've missed my baths. They've always been an essential part of my feel-good, feel-cool ritual. My husband, daughter and I stayed at a hotel in Asheville, NC, last weekend, and there was an epic bathtub in our room. It reminded me how very essential a bath is to me--sort of like taking my antidepressant or getting eight hours of sleep. When I was a teenager, I'd light a ridiculous number of candles, run a scalding bath that would turn my skin pink, tote my CD player into the tiny bathroom and turn on Sarah McLachlan, lock the door and just soak. Now that I have a kid, I'm really in need of those long, hot soaks again. "Me time" is a precious commodity around here. Also, I've been struggling with the art of doing nothing. I have trouble sitting still, trouble calming my mind, but that's about all you can do when you're sitting in a bathtub. Even reading tends not to go very well.
When I run that first bath later this morning, when Tessa is down for her nap, I will try to calm my mind. But my mind will probably be thinking about ... what a crap bathtub we have. It's one of those white plastic shower/tubs that our renovator obviously bought for a discount since it's had a ugly, scab-looking scar on it since day one. I've been trolling craigslist recently looking for the perfect clawfoot tub. I'm almost six feet tall so I definitely want one of the larger ones; I think the biggest of the vintage clawfoots comes in five and a half feet dimensions. I think I may ask my husband for a bathtub for Christmas.
Here are some of my favorite bathing beauties:
Photo Credits: http://www.houzz.com/
