I like to take baths. Submerging myself in the hot water feels like floating and takes me away from my real-life surroundings. I lean all the way back and let my hair go beneath the surface of the water as I lose myself in the warm wetness. I add hot water as the current temperature cools and maintain a steady heat that is both relaxing and invigorating.
Showers feel like work to me. I have to stand up the whole time and make the effort to wash my body while holding the soap securely in my hand. No losing awareness of my surroundings or I may fall, and stretching to reach the body parts takes conscious awareness. The whole endeavor is neither relaxing, nor pleasurable. So, I opt for baths most mornings.
When I emerge from my bath, I grip the safety bars that my daughter thoughtfully had installed around the tub. I experience serenity and a quiet calm as I don the white terry-cloth robe waiting for me on the floor. It is almost like I have been beneath the surface of the water enough to feel like a fish might feel.
The only problem with being a bath person is that I have to clean the tub. Or should I say, I need to clean it more often than I do. I struggle with bending over to reach the far away side, and have had little success scrubbing the dead skin cells and dirt from the porcelain surface. Only Mr. Clean’s new Magic Eraser embedded with soap does the job.
As I am finishing toiling on the treadmill in the early morning darkness outside the condo gym’s windows, I begin to look forward to shedding my sweaty clothes and settling into a bath. A sweet reward.