I Am Currently Unwashed, Unshaven And Generally Hating My Apartment

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Occasionally, I like to enjoy a good bath. I enjoy the ritual of cleansing my body--daily, but I also enjoy the ritual of sitting in a tub of steaming hot water, surrounded by candles, a cup of tea in hand, Ray Charles crooning in the background and a good book in front of me.

Please notice this list started with: a tub of steaming hot water.

About three weeks ago, I had a lovely evening of nothing stretched before me, so I decided to enjoy it with an evening of pruning my skin. I lit the candles, made the tea, started the music, collected the books and started running the bath water.

First problem I encountered was the simple fact our tub has no little plug. I creatively covered it with a saucer. It leaked. I rummaged about and found a cup. It sort of worked. Whatever.

I sat happily in the bath waiting for it to finish filling. Halfway through filling it turns a very icy cold. Terrific. So. There I sit, in roughly five inches of now tepid water, trying, oh-so-valiently, to get the most out of my icy bath. After ten minutes of this icy soak bit, I rose from the veritable ashes of my dream bath and puttered about the house covered in soam scum and heavenknowswhatelse. I couldn't shower until the next morning since the hot water was gone.

I told this story to my flatmate who assured me that this was most definately out of the ordinary. Her old flatmate took bathes all the time.

Tonight. I tried again.

The same routine, except THIS time I started running the bathwater FIRST. It semed hot enough AND halfway full! Candles, tea, book, Norah Jones and soaking followed ensuit. Except, three quarters full, it turned icy again. I didn't think this would be much of a problem since my bath was full-ish.

I was able to soak for a full fifteen minutes. Until there wasn't enough water left in the tun to cover my body.

I lay there. Shivering. Covered in soap scum. Cold. Wet. Unshaven. Unbathed.

I got up. Frozen. Found TWO housecoats instead of the normal one, because I am very, very cold. I now have dried ON soap scum AND I am unbathed. I make myself another cup of tea and linger by the hot burner trying to warm my icy soapy hands.

My flatmate tells me I look like a fat housewife. Waddling about in two housecoats and unmatching slippers.

These are the single nights I prefer to forget about when giving myself those little pep talks about living alone. I think being smelly and cold is better alone than with someone. That isn't really a theroy I am willing to try out.

But I'll go out on a limb and say--it is.

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This odd narrative is my life. I ended up in Pittsburgh, of all places--from the beach. I have no hobbies, other than cooking excessively and eating microwave popcorn. I enjoy shopping, the Food network, hiding the remote so the Food network cannot be turned off, find ethnic food stores and restaurants and reading voraciously. My life is decidedly pedestrian.

I worked in the car business where I was required to be ruthless and soul-less wench, which is when I started this project. Since then, I've kept it up because secretly, I've always wanted to join the military. Every male in my mother's family has joined and I quietly entertain thoughts of joining. I haven't yet and don't know if I ever will, but sending the troops cookies keeps me sane. it makes me think I still have a shred of human kindness left in my withering soul. it's a small way for me to salute the men and women who are brave enough to fight for freedom. And makes me feel like I'm contributing toward troop morale--even if I'm not. So if you want to help, send me addresses of troops you know stationed overseas. you may also contribute toward the cost of chocolate chips, but don't feel obligated, that link is here only by request.

the past


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