Back where I’m from, we call it taking a bath.
Most of yinz guys call it drawing a bath or something like that. I’m not sure how either is right, since I don’t see how we’re taking a bath anywhere or drawing anything. It’s hard to draw water. Well, in my opinion, it’s hard to draw anything.
And yes, I slipped into a little Pittsburghese right there for yinz guys. Deal with it. It’s Super Bowl weekend and I’m in the mood.
I take a lot of baths. Not because I’m dirty. Or maybe I am. Maybe posting a photo of me in the bathtub is dirty in and of itself, though I was sure to zoom in and I’m fairly certain you can’t see anything but some very un-sexy and un-dirty body parts.
You can thank me later for that editing skill.
I take lots of baths cause it’s where I go when I need to think or relax or zone out or cry or try to drown myself. I have yet to succeed in any of this. I keep trying. Mostly I’m distracted by the squeeze toys that squirt water all over the place and make funny noises.
The other day I took two baths within a three-hour period. The warm water envelopes me and makes me happy. It warms me up and makes me feel light. If I could buy any house out there right now I’d find one first with a basement (definite must with three boys and something I crave right now) and second, one with a huge-ass garden tub. Maybe two. One in my room and one in the guest wing, where I’d go to escape. Cause even in a house with a basement you need an escape route.
Gosh. All this talk about escaping and taking baths makes me want to escape and take a bath.
And play with some toys.