I want a bathtub.
When we moved here with my mother a year ago, we left behind a bathtub. We lived in an old mobile home, so the bathtub was small. Trailer sized. Couldn't stretch out. To get my head in the water, my butt was mashed against the far end. If I sucked my belly in, I might get a half inch of water cover. I hated that tub. It leaned a bit also. In the winter the bottom of it was freezing. In a trailer every wall is an outside wall. In an old trailer the walls are about two inches thin.
So, the tub stayed behind. Wasn't the kind of thing you generally move anyway.
There is no tub here. There are two shower stalls. One upstairs. One downstairs. Showers are good for quick cleaning. For when I get home from work smelling like a brine soaked, bacon wrapped French fry. To wash my hair.
But it's not a tub. Every time I drag myself to the shower,it mocks me. No stretching out. Have to stand there. Water just running away. No soaking. No bubbles.
I want a damn tub.
I want a tub I can take a nap in. I want a tub with water jets. Three settings. Relax, passout, and better than sex. I want bubbles and bath salts and loofas. I want a place around it for candles and a stereo. Space for the cats to perch if they're brave enough. I want to soak the day out of my body. I want to fill it with water hot enough to boil a lobster. Well, maybe just hot enough to loosen the tension knots. I want to float in a tub. With water lilies.
Sigh, Just a tub