I have been cold for two, count them, two days. Not just the "this is a nice, brisk autumn day" cold but the kind of cold that has you refusing to reach your hand out of the covers to hit the snooze button no matter how many octaves your alarm clock is bound and determined to climb. That kind of cold. In the car on the way back home from worship practice, I fantasized about Bahama beaches,endless mugs of cocoa- with a strategically displayed cinnamon stick, of course- and down comforters stretched out like canvas across the parking lot. My hot and steamy dreams led to only one conclusion; one answer to this bone chill I cannot shake: it was time to take a bath.
Baths are totally and completely underrated. Not only are they the only things that can thaw my hypothermic appendages, but it is in the bath where you can find complete and utter solitude. No one bothers you in the bath; not even your spouse. There is something sacred about water immersion. I've often envisioned a bathroom and tub placed right smack in the middle of my classroom so, whenever the need rises (like when I'm being called a F%$# face or accused of losing an irresponsible child's paper) I can politely put my finger in the air and excuse myself. It's time for my bath. Where I go, you cannot follow. Ha. Ha. Insert sinister teacher laugh here.
You cannot possibly be distracted with work. Paperwork doesn't fair well surrounded by water, don't you know? You can't answer the phone or e-mails- mmm, electric shock, anyone? Besides, how awkward would it be to have to ask your boss to repeat himself on that conference call- you simply couldn't hear him over the running water.
It's a one stop shopping excursion. Relax and get clean while you wait for the stillness to put your mind at rest. Makes you wonder what all of these spas are about, huh? Baths are great for the economically challenged. And the tired. And the annoyed. And the physically achy. Damn. I think I just talked myself into taking another one.
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