Bedtime for kids is bath time for me. I’m sneaky that way. Or maybe very honest. Either way, right around 7.45pm a steamy hot bath sounds really delicious. It may have something to do with the inevitable approach of the Brush-Your-Teeth-And-Make-A-Wee loop that is on playback around that time every night, but whatever the reason I don’t question it. Someone else can deal with that (that’s what dads are for) – I’ll be taking a bath.
It’s hardly ever bubbles actually. I do love bubbles – their shape and texture and foamy whiteness… But I can’t find bubbles that I love to languish in anymore. Growing up I was very attached to the green bottle of Badedas that stood proudly in every bathroom in Pretoria, South Africa and I have never been able to replicate that piney, heavenly smell anywhere else. So I’d rather do without for now.
And last weekend I replaced steamy, hot and clear with thick, peaty, foul-smelling mud. Black, hot and full of bits and pieces, it was fabulous. I wallowed in it. Loved it.
Whether thick and muddy, or clear and free-flowing, bubbly or steamy, it’s the heat and the silence, the feeling of something against my skin that is not fabric and is not air, that calls to me at 7.45pm. Time to float, to wallow, to be quiet.
OPI’s Bubble Bath is the perfect shade of delicate pink – unobtrusive, soothing, beautiful.
One hour to go… Bliss.