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Archive for February, 2015

I washed the tub.

I ran the water and added the lavender and vanilla bubble bath, and a few drops of peppermint essence.

The hot water ran out less than a quarter filled.

So, I waited.

Studied for an upcoming test, and got a little blue.

Maybe the hot water has come back.

So I gave it another go.

More bubbles, more mint, and a smidgen of epsom salts.

I disrobed and dipped one foot gingerly into the hot water.

Good to go.

All the way in.

I scratch my legs and my ankles. It’s always the first thing I do in a bath. I’m not sure why.

My thoughts flickered one after another, never pausing to let me see things clearly.

I decided to try a solo guided meditation. Maybe this environment is more conducive than a hard-backed office chair.

I started at my toes and gave them a little wiggle.

I concentrated on that sensation. What was I feeling?

A slight throbbing in my heels where they rested against the tub’s edge.

My mind moved upwards.

The water’s edge hit me at mid-calf and the foamy bubbles clung to my skin another three inches (or so). 

A prickling on my knees where the soapy water was drying out gave way to more foaminess as I started down the other side.

I get distracted by an itchiness attacking my hairline. 

Tiny bubbles are crackling around my head. I listen.

My face peeks out above the water and bubbles wrap around my head.

Knees bent, I place my feet flat on the tub’s bottom, my hands under my bottom.

Now I am steady, and I can hear with my ears just below the water.

My fingers thrum from the steady pressure of my weight.

I hear it.

A pulse pounds in my ears. I feel it in my chest. I see it where my tummy protrudes from the water.

I am annoyed at this tiny apartment bathtub seemingly meant for children. 

I listen.

My breath interrupts the pulsing calm. It sounds alien together. How strange, because breathing and blood circulation happens together all the time. 

I hold my breath.

The sound merges into a more foreign one as my breath involuntarily spills out in tiny puffs.

I listen.

I feel.

I feel my chest rise, and my lungs expand. 

I feel the blood rushing in my ears.

It rivals an ocean’s roar.

I’ve had enough.

I flip over to my belly.

I blow holes in the sheet of bubbles and a chunk flies into the wall beside me.

It fills me with a strange unexpected happiness.

My breasts are effortlessly suspended in the water. 

My hair floats just under the water’s surface. I see one or two floating away from me. 

I’ll get them later.

I feel the weight of my hair. Three times heavier with the filmy, soapy bubbles.

I hope there’s enough warmth left in the water heater to rinse it well enough.

I turn on my back again and flick my ears to hear the twang.

I scratch a spot on my scalp. It feels good.

I, very rapidly, scratch around my scalp.

I like the sound it makes underwater. 

I hear the downstairs neighbour puttering around, running water and opening doors. 

Doors to what, I can’t be sure.

It’s time to get out. I’m wrinkled.

I pull the plug and scratch the soles of my feet vigorously.

Epsom salts always make me so itchy. And thirsty, I’m so thirsty!

The water drains from around me.

I stand up and pull the shower curtain closed. 

It’s so loud. Is it always this loud?

I run the faucet again, I pull the knob to switch it to shower mode.

The water is not very warm, but I start to rinse my hair anyway.

I decide to brave some conditioner. Bubble bath, peppermint essence, and salts are very drying for the hair.

It’s so chilly. I am chilled.

A warm robe awaits.

I am dry.

I am wrinkly.

I am squeaky.

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