When I moved into my apartment last July I had high expectations for this claw foot tub that came with the place. I was pretty stoked and bragged about it’s awesomeness and the awesome showers I was going to have, and it was just going to be awesome sauce all around. Then I quickly discovered how much of a pain they are to keep clean. The water hangs out in the corners of the tub, and every morning after my shower I have to take a glass and rinse out the standing water. You have no idea how hard it is to remember to do that. It is almost as hard as it was to remember to wipe off the tile walls of my parent’s shower when I was in high school. I think I remembered like twice. I should have squeegeed the crap out of those walls, children have no respect.
The water pressure and temperature fluctuates about every 15 seconds during my shower. From hot to ice cold. It is worse when the doctor who lives across the hall is in town… apparently he likes to shower around the same time as me. He isn’t here all too often, about every other week, he has his main practice somewhere else. When he is here he uses my parking spot. Not that it has my name or apartment number on it, but it’s where I usually park. And he should know that. So I get kicked out and have to park on the side street where my car could easily get hit by drunk college students driving down the hill from the school. Oh yeah, I live on the bottom of a steep hill that leads up to the university. Drunk college students, and then the weirdos who follow them, walk under my living room windows every night of the week. I’m old now, and cranky, “What’s all that racket about out there?!” Maybe toss a couple of pieces of old fruit at them, herd them under the doctor’s window.
Do you know how tall I am? Why the heck would you? I am 5’2. Yeah, I’m about as tall as a fifth grade boy. And probably just as awkward. Do you know how hard it is to get into a claw foot tub when you are 5’2? Nearly impossible. I think I need to buy a step stool soon, because I also can’t reach past the second shelf in my kitchen cupboards. I’m not ashamed to admit that I climbed up on the counter to reach my can of black beans the other night. I suppose I should let my beef with my shower go, there was new carpet laid and the walls were painted before I moved in. I guess that makes up for the ice cold showers every morning, and the extra 10 minutes it takes to get my conditioner rinsed out.
Movies and shows always make claw foot tubs look so nice and relaxing. Filthy liars. These things are not comfortable. Well, mine doesn’t hold water. Not like I am much of a bath person, but if I was, those baths would suck. I would have to refill that puppy every 5 minutes. I mean, I guess that solves the reason I don’t like baths much – you’re sitting in standing water that is sloughing away your layer(s) of grime. But still, the fact that I can’t take a bath even if I wanted to, which I never would, is disappointing.
When my nephew was little he would poop in the tub. It didn’t bother him to have those floating around, but watch out if there was a bug – sheer panic folks. Screams, tons of thrashing resulting in most of the bath water ending up on the floor. But poop… didn’t phase him, not one little bit. Ever tried fishing poop out of bath water? Not fun guys, not fun. I wonder how many more times I could say poop before it got old…
Crazy Lady is probably shaking her head right now reading this. Mother, I don’t think this is a post for you, go back and read the last one about your favorite child… again.
The person who lived in my apartment before me was a friend, which is how I stealthily slid my way into the place after he graduated. He was completely moved out before I was in, don’t worry I didn’t camp out in the bedroom closet or anything. The thought of him having a claw foot tub makes me laugh. Men taking showers in a claw foot tub is just kind of silly, don’t you think? Silly… they’re so masculine and that tub is so not. “Why what a fancy bathing fixture you have there Jack.”
Just think about the new carpets Katelyn… and not that you haven’t had a decent shower in 10 months. Hot, cold, hot, cold, blistering, freezing, Katelyn breaks down crying…
This is all just to say that I am not much of a morning person.
I have a blogger crush, if such things exist. Meet Dimwit and his hilarious diary (all rights to this photo belongs to him and his funny-spanking self):
I bet he loves bathing in claw foot tubs, with lots of bubbles and Jack Link’s Original Hickory Smokehouse beef jerky readily available. I was going to ask him to date me but then I came to my senses when I read about his glamorous unicorn t-shirt and I realized he was way out of my league. I’ll just admire him from afar… until the cardboard cutout is finished.