A lot of people I know love baths. They find them refreshing, relaxing, rejuvenating, restorative and other words you'd find in an ad for a spa. They're always talking about how there's nothing better than a hot bath, they can't wait to get in the bath, they were feeling sore and achy until they took a bath, the first thing they do in a hotel is take a bath ... bath, bath, bath. I actually have friends who Instagram photos of the baths they're about to take.
The result of all this incessant bath chatter is I feel I'm missing out by hardly ever taking a bath — especially since I live in a home with two giant bathtubs which have turned into awkward, inefficient storage units. The one in the master bathroom is a vast ring of emptiness surrounded by grooming products that don't fit in the small stall shower, candles, unopened bubble bath I received as a gift, dust and hair. The guest bathroom's tub serves as a ledge for 8 million old issues of Entertainment Weekly and Vanity Fair.
As I do with Grape Nuts — another thing I don't appreciate in the way I think I'm supposed to — every so often I try to see what all the fuss is about.
"I know! I'll take a bath!" I announce to myself. Then I buzz around the bathroom lighting candles and grabbing a bunch of magazines and turning on music and trying various ways of pinning my hair up so it won't get wet. "Look at you, treating yourself right," I'll titter as if I'm truly in for an afternoon of sweet indulgence. Then I'll finally get into the tub, lean back and let the waves of relaxation wash over me for about 60 to 75 seconds until I'm bored and want to get out.
This is what everyone loves? What am I missing?
But even though my body longs to be on terra firma, I'll force myself to soak for another few minutes because I can't believe I went to all this trouble to create a mood for less than two minutes of sudsy enjoyment. Then I think of all the candles I lit — by this point it's hard not to think of them as I feel I'm suffocating in a cloud of pomegranate — and imagine the flames somehow jumping from the counter to the roll of toilet paper and igniting. It'd be such a shame if I burned the house down while I was in the tub, although if that were to happen, the tub is really the right place to be. But the tub has its dangers: Are there any electrical items nearby that could fall in? Did I leave my straightening iron plugged in? Did I turn the stove off? Did I leave a cigarette lit, even though I haven't smoked in 15 years? Where is the dog? What if I'm missing important emails?
By the time I finally allow myself to get out, I realize I haven't even washed myself. As I do that, memories of being a little kid, which is the last time I really took — and also didn't enjoy — a bath, come flooding back.
After washing, I worry I'm soaking in soapy water and realize I won't feel clean unless I take a shower, which is what I wish I'd done from the beginning. I do not feel relaxed, rejuvenated or refreshed. I feel annoyed and sweaty and the sum total of my afternoon of sweet indulgence is that I've wasted an hour plus and I'm in bad mood.
Yet, I'm aware that in a few months I will try this again and have the same realizations, because I can't seem to break this cycle.
People who love baths: What am I doing wrong?
Same question regarding Grape Nuts.
Hear more from Alison Rosen on her podcast, "Alison Rosen Is Your New Best Friend" or on the immensely popular "Adam Carolla Show" podcast. Follow her on Twitter @alisonrosen or visit her website at www.alisonrosen.com. To find out more about Alison Rosen and read features by other Creators Syndicate writers and cartoonists, visit the Creators Syndicate Web page at www.creators.com.