Yesterday I went for a 30 minute walk that only lasted 5 minutes because it was so freakin’ cold outside that I had to turn back home. We’re talking chilled-to-the-bone-I might-as-well-have-been-hiking-the-polar-ice-caps cold. So what does one do to warm back up? Take a long hot bath!
So there I am, in the tub (picture me with a bathing suit on if that helps make this less awkward), trying to get this body of mine a little warmer. Problem one: the tub is shallow and so the water only covers the lower half of my body. Problem two: the tub is short so I have to bend my legs to try and get more of my torso under the water. Problem three: Josser-dog (my Pit) has pushed the bathroom door open, letting all my steamy, warm air-of-awesome escape only to be replaced by the icy winds of a downstairs that refuses to remain heated. Ultimate problem: “The Alps” (as my friend calls them… though in truth mine should be called “The Bunny Hills”) are in danger of getting frost bite and any girl knows, regardless of how warm the rest of your body is, if “The Alps” are cold you are cold.
What to do?
Solution one: pretzel up the legs even more to try and get into the water. (Fail.) Solution two: Splash water on self, which only succeeds in exacerbating the problem. (Fail.) Solution three: Pull body out of tub to shut the bathroom door, getting water all over the floor and adding to the cold problem. The air never re-heats. (Fail.) Solution four: Turn over. (Success… kind of).
After tying myself in a bow, sloshing around in a tub, and getting in and out of the water, while also turning the hot water on and off with my feet (because by this time the temps have dropped to lukewarm), I rolled over. This put me in the oh-so-awesome position of a twisted torso with my face planted on the back of the freezing, porcelain tub. (When was the last time I clean this thing?!?) There I stayed with my neck craned backward, my knees pressed painfully into one of the sides, and my hip raising out of the water like an iceberg, big enough to sink the titanic, and the only thought I had besides “Owww!” was “I should have brought a blanket.”
Soon the cool water and colder air forced me out of my little tub. (I thought taking a hot shower might help… and maybe it could have… if I hadn’t used all the hot water trying to recreate a steamy bathroom to warm up “The Bunny Hills”). I quickly dressed in a gazillion layers and made plans to move to a tropical climate.
As I related this experience to my friends later that day, all three (almost in unison), told me I should have used a washcloth.
“A washcloth?” I asked.
“Yes! Soak it in the hot water and then drape it over the exposed portions of your (bathing-suit-clad) body.”
*head slam*
In all my rolling around in the tub like a crocodile trying to kill its next meal, I never thought to reach up and grab my wash cloth.
*head slam again*
And I wondered… how often do I miss the best solution because it is the simple one? Or because I didn’t think to ask someone else for advice (you guessed it, friends, this isn’t the first time I’ve done “the death roll” in a too-small-tub). Somehow I tend to equate “complex” with “best” and “I did this on my own” with “smart.” Usually though, I end up frustrated and, in this case, cold.
What about you? Have you ever passed on a good solution because it seemed too simple? For my writerly friends, do you ever use a blow torch in your plots when a hot washcloth might do?
I’d LOVE to hear from you! Really! Embarrassment loves company!
(Or was that misery? hehe)
Happy Valentine’s Day!
~Deb
