Months ago I did a vlog from the bathtub. It was pretty gross.
That was the last time I took a bath. Well, it’s Saturday night and my dance card is empty, so it’s time for a soak. …In a porcelain tub with a glass of water. And a cat walking around. And a dog hiding because she thinks I’m going to pull her in (which I totally do, it’s how she gets bathed).
Okay, man, we get it! On with the post!
Well, technically, I’m not in the bath yet. I turned the water on to start to fill it. Then I ran around the condo shadow-dancing to an old Led Zeppelin song I have memorized.
By the way there are two types of bath people:
- Those who wait for the bath to fill up before getting in.
- Those who start out laying in the empty tub, and hang out while it fills.
Here’s the problem with the first group. They think they’re too good to hang out while the tub is doing it’s thing. It’s beneath them. They have shit to do. While it’s running they’re going into the nice candle drawer and fishing out the one that smells like passion fruit. They’re pouring a carafe of white zin. In short, they’re making too big a deal about a bath. Sadly, this is me.
Next is the person who lies down in a empty tub naked, turns on the faucet and waits. This individual also adjusts the temperature by turning the knobs with their toes. Yes, this person is sad and pathetic. They shouldhave something better to do than watch this kettle boil. But they don’t. No candles will be burning, no Enya pumping through their docked iPhone. But they love baths way more than the first group. They’re purists. They’ll deal with the first three minutes of fanny on dry porcelain. They’ll jump in a bath in 100° weather after a six mile run. The live to bathe.
One thing both groups have in common is a designated “dry” hand. You must keep a not-ironically-named hand towel to set near the bathtub. This is for anything like grabbing a pretzel rod, the paperback, your phone, or to type on the computer perched on the toilet lid. Don’t forget this or else you’ll have to use the full body towel, and then it won’t be totally dry when you use it later, and, c’mon, you’re better than that.
This time I screwed up my bathing experience. When I got back, the tub was full and I didn’t realize I had it on the hottest setting. I tried to get in and had to jump out because my ankles buckled. Not the most masculine scene.
So, I’m actually writing this from atop the toilet. Well, not actually at the top part. I’m sitting on the toilet as you normally would, except with the lid closed. I had already shed my clothes before. This is an odd scene. Grown man, naked, sitting on a toilet, lid-down, with laptop on his lap, writing about bathing. Except he can’t bathe because it would fry his reproductive system.
Okay, the water has cooled down from physically boiling to a temperature I can tolerate. Excuse me while I fashion my shower gloves.