The joy of a hot bath

When I lived in my built-in-1958 Virginia apartment, I had a REAL tub--none of this fiberglass hogwash--and I loved to take baths. Not just any baths. Bubblebaths. I collected bubblebath scents the way some women collect shoes. If it was a weekend and I wasn't expected anywhere too soon, sometimes I even took candlelit bubblebaths...with the lights off, candles twinkling around the edge of the tub and music playing (Nat King Cole was my favorite bathtime crooner).

Since I moved into my built-in-2006 retirement condo at the beach in Delaware, I have had to come to grips with the world of fiberglass bathroom fixtures. I don't mind it so much in my master bathroom, where I have a nice big walk-in shower stall that doesn't require me to cling to walls and towel bars in order to climb in (short legs, ya know).

The only tub in the joint now is a fiberglass one. It's shorter than my old ceramic tub; you'd think that would be a benefit since I'm a shorty; I'm not yet convinced. The worst thing about my tub is that it is damned uncomfortable--for me at least. You see, it is angled at the back--supposedly to make it more comfortable to soak in--but being a shorty, it just doesn't fit me right and I can't get comfortable, even with a washcloth folded behind my neck.

Quickly, my bubblebath habit went by the wayside. What's the use of taking a bubblebath if you can't relax and enjoy it? I mean, isn't that the POINT of bubblebaths? My Bath & Body Works bubblebath collection sat neglected under the sink, holding up a pile of bathmats. I love my place and I'm not willing to move to get a better bathtub but, man, it was a bummer.

Cut to almost two years later and I've got some kind of ick in my throat and my head and it's the weekend, which means my doctor's office isn't open. My neck and shoulders are killing me, probably because I've been sleeping weirdly because I can't breathe or swallow. I was starting to turn the corner and feel a little better. I hadn't showered because I was dizzy, weak, had the chills, etc., and was afraid I'd keel over in the shower.

Then it came to me--a bath. A bubblebath! "Oh, but it's uncomfortable." came the voice of my Inner Grump. I was beyond caring. When you're already feeling that bad, almost anything is going to be an improvement. While I ran a nice hot bath, I shuffled between my master bath and the guest bath (where the tub is), ferrying necessities.

Suddenly, caught up in my excitement, I noticed my dog looking at me quizzically. First, I realized that, to her, the tub filling means SHE'S getting a bath. Which means that, in the entire year since I'd adopted her, she'd never seen me take a bath. Wow. Long time no bath!

When I sank into that hot, coconut- and vanilla-scented water, every part of my body let out a collective AHHHH. Not only did I find a way to be comfortable (rolled hand towel vs. washcloth), I completely forgot I was sick and that my throat hurt so bad I couldn't eat solid food. It was a complete escape. A complete joy.

I could almost hear the bubbles welcoming me back. "Ah, old friend. Welcome home!"