A Lavish Soak

The tub itself was remarkable. Not only was it long and deep, it was separate from the shower. It stood alone in its pristine frame of classy Italian marble tile. The elegant faucets opened and filled the tub quickly with hot, steamy water. Combined with the extravagent vial of bubble bath--included with the suite--it bubbled and foamed and soon awaited my entrance. More notably for me, however, was the fact that this elegant bath tub was clean. So clean in fact that I dared lower my very own self into its luxurious depths. I love baths but seldom take them. You see, I share a tub with several other people and an 85 pound dog.

Said people don't see the need to wash or even rinse the tub down between uses, so a tub bath becomes out of the question. In fact by the third or fourth day following its thorough scrubbing, taking a shower becomes a bit of a risky endeavor. The health department could be called in. My daughter thinks nothing of pulling long , wet tufts of hair from the drain...and slinging them against the tub wall. My husband is a machinist, and comes home laden with enough grease to forever squelch the proverbial squeaky wheel...and leaves it all over the tub. My youngest boy thinks it's hilarious to put the dog in the tub...just to play for a few minutes. Rinse the fur down afterwards? Now why would he consider such an option?

But this tub...oh, this tub was clean. And into it I sank, deliciously taking in the warmth, the scent, and the tranquility of my warmth and solitude. Until I looked out the window.

The window was part of the bathroom's overall appeal. It was a picture window, set just above one length of the luxurious bath tub. Its view was peaceful; serene. A mountain in the distance, and a small creek..partly frozen, ran through a field of evergeens. When first noticing the window I thought of the architect's brilliance in placing the window in a spot out of mankind's view. No one could see in, and I could see no one when gazing outside at the scenery...that is, until I settled into that luxurious bath tub.

The architect must have missed that one little detail. Once lowered into my lovely bath I became instantly aware of the floors and floors of hotel rooms and suites that could in fact have a decent view--albeit with binoculars and honestly not particularly decent--down upon one 53-year old mother of five children...lounging naked in the tub.

"Aaaaaaahhhhhh!"

That was my first instinct...to yell, jump up from the bath and furiously call the front desk.

"What the $%#&@! There's an enormous picture window by the bathtub and other people can see in!"

But I didn't. I calmly, slowly enjoyed my bath for its delirious duration. And those bubbles lasted a long, long time. You see, I was in a hotel suite...miles and miles from home. No one knew me there.

The irony lies in my careless attitude. Years ago, when if I say so myself, my svelte self was well worth a glance or two...I'd have positively died if I so much as considered dashing past a picture window in a bathroom. It simply wouldn't have happened. But now...oh, now is heavenly. I'm older and I just plain don't care. I've borne 5 children, I'm past middle age (techincally of course...if one is said to live into their 80's!) and I've put on a few middle age pounds. I guess I view life from a different pair of spectacles. And I know full well if some weirdo is up there glancing down with his binoculars....well then....the joke's most definitely on him!

Once dried, dressed and dining....on crackers from the wet bar, my daughter...my traveling companion...noticed the last trace of dwindling bubbles, popping in the bottom of the tub.

"You took a bath?"

"Oh, yes," I said. "And it was wonderful."

"There's a window by the tub!"

"Mmmmm. You're right."

"Mom, I think people can see in."

"Maybe."

"You won't even wear a bathing suit and go to the pool!"

"You're right."

And I smiled, smug in my knowledge of matters a 16-year old couldn't begin to process. Sure, Mom's old and not too hip when viewed from the eyes of her teenage daughter. But truly folks...mom knows how to live. The lavish soak was just the beginning...