Tonight I innocently tried to recreate the perfectly glorious bath I had last Friday night, hoping for relaxation, detoxification, inspiration.
I carefully retraced my steps, lighting candles, mixing salts and aromas, creating the perfect playlist.
I twisted my hair up into a messy bun, removed all traces of makeup, anticipated the steamy glow that made me look so young after marinating in the heat.
I dipped one toe into the perfectly full tub, and gasped.
The water was way too hot.
I turned on the cold water to balance it out a little.
My youngest knocked on the door to use the bathroom.
“All three of you, go to the bathroom now because I’m going to be in here for a while.”
One, two, three went.
The cold water still runs.
My husband asks me questions about renovating doors and baseboard and trim.
I rush back to turn off the cold water, dip a toe in.
It feels cooler now.
I turn on the music, inhale, and submerge myself.
It’s flipping FREEZING!
I bolt upright, extinguishing one of the candles with the splash.
Turn on the hot again.
But it’s no longer hot.
I sit there defiantly; telling myself it’ll warm up again; willing the hot water tank to heat my water.
I hug my legs but remain. Stubborn.
I will have my hot bath!
Another knock on the door.
“Mommy, I have to go to the bathrooooooooom!”
I turn off the music, blow out the candles, drain the water.
Look at myself in the mirror.
Search for the glow…..
Makes last week’s bath all the more memorable.
I am grateful that this was the most difficult part of today.