A Cold Tubby

It started out hot, but in my determination to at least vacuum today, because with three dogs, if you don't vacuum at least every other day (and that is slacking, believe me) I was doing this BEFORE the tubby so that I could do it right, which meant I was sweaty and dirty. Note to self: One cannot be a diva and a cleaning lady all at the same time. As a result, my tubby was tepid. I was determined not to waste the gallons of hot water that would be gone without use, as well as the lovely and fragrant bath salts I had liberally poured. The fact that we waste 80 gallons per minute, 24/7,out into the back nine was not factoring into the decision to climb into the tepid tubby. I was in there for a good 45 minutes, reading a wonderful book and soaking my tired and sore bones. Midway through the tub became cold. It was clearly cold, and my decision to stay was a result of the totality of the situation. I had a soda to sip and a book to read and I wasn't climbing out like some kind of wuss. It wasn't THAT cold (although it was cold enough-trust me) and I wasn't shivering, which I would have been had I climbed into the tub at the point I decided to stay. It was a gradual uncomfortable, which makes all the difference. I was (and am) reading the book Embracing Persephone, by Virginia Beane Rutter, which if you are familiar with your Greek myths, names the teenager who leaves her Mother Demeter and her Father Zeus, to marry Hades. Not a good scenario under any circumstance, but one I can certainly identify with. Having survived what we delicately call a "difficult teenager", (check out Webster's dictionary-delicate includes "No Picnic" in its definition - he must have had a teenager) I am happy and proud to say that we are now wonderfully and happily and thankfully, a close and healthy Mother and Daughter. We have survived each other's angst and anger and all that, and emerged as two individuals who enjoy each others company, champion each other every step of the way, and love each other unconditionally. And that's just the tip of the iceberg. It wasn't always that way, and our journey included a lot of family therapy and a lot of mistakes on both ends. Our journey was loud and colorful, as fireworks always are. And if truth be told, our journey would probably sound very different depending on the teller. That is why this book is so profound for me. I am reading both sides, and understanding more fully the adolescent perspective. Good stuff. Which brings me back to the cold tubby situation. If you are not a fan of a tubby, you have not given it enough attention. Some people say that a tubby is like soaking in dirty water. Not so, it is soaking in water that reaches every nook and cranny, and fragrantly soaks the living daylights out of it. A quick shower rinse is all that is needed, and the bath salts and oils will have conditioned your skin from head to toe. It is a glorious luxury that I violently defend. It is also part of the tubby ritual to make sure that the world you emerge INTO is also lovely and fragrant, hence the vacuum situation. I don't like to step from the tub into a home that has not been vacuumed, straightened up, and aromatherapied. I guess I like to feel a bit like Cleopatra, emerging from the baths while the servant holds the towel and delivers a hot cup of tea. I was missing the servant today (he had to go to work), but the hot cup of tea was delicious. A cruel reality that I had to prepare it myself, but whatever. . . And so my morning is complete. I shall finish the book and be better prepared for female adolescent #2. I have had a nice long tubby to read and think and prepare. And I think I've learned a thing or two in the years between, but my trump card is this: We live far from town in the woods, and I own the car.