today

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So adorable. *pink neon light flickers on in my heart*

I'm happy as a clam in the bath. It must have been a fun place as a toddler because good feelings about it are still with me.  

More gratitude in the run-up to sixty. 
 
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I experienced severe physical anxiety in the days and weeks after quitting alcohol. My nervous system was constantly revving, and I shook. Vigorous exercise helped, as did massage. But neither was as good as the warmth and comfort of a hot bath. Some days I would have two. No thought to the cost. Looking for ways to get through another day.

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I see myself in Lee Price's intimate paintings -- women in tubs, mostly eating. The basics are beverages (plural), food, reading material, and the phone. No time limit. It's where I read and think freely. I want a bathroom with a comfy chair. For company. Think of traditional hammam or sauna culture. A social activity often with food and drink.  
 
I work in a cold building (and I dress for it). Last week I came home from work and sat in the tub for a couple hours before dinner. To warm up and relax. Can you tell I don't have kids?
 
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I was renovicted from a basement apartment in the Junction (may I never have to live below ground again). It was a terrible experience. I loved the neighbourhood and watched my place sit vacant for months while they slowly gutted the building. 
 
There was a Euro-spa tub deep enough to have built-in armrests. The water covered me completely. It had an angled backrest for comfort. There were jets. I didn't care what the rest of the place looked like. Put my money down. 
 
I won't look at an apartment with a shower. A hotel room without a bath is just okay.
 
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Let's talk about shimmying into narrow French bathtubs. Designed for nymphs. I've heard funny stories. The snug fit when I get in makes me feel halfway to being swaddled.

I spent one March break in Avignon, France. Ten of us in an oldish mansion. Most of us had a room. Someone locally had helped find accommodations. It was fun. 
 
I discovered Carrefour sold coconut bubble bath that smelled like drinking a virgin Pina Colada under a palm tree, on hot sand, and looking out at turquoise water. On the way back, I packed six bottles — sober for two or three years then. I've carried wine back and forth, just not on that trip.
 
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Show me a better Beach Boys song. I sing this chorus loud sometimes — in my own company. Sing it in the bath.

"I went over to Brian's with my new [tape recorder] and told him the name of the tune and sang those intervals, and he pumped out the rest of that song." Van Dyke Parks

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1973