The other night my husband Steve was stressed and achy so I drew him a bath. I lovingly put in Epsom salt for the aches and a nice smelling bubble bath product for the scent and the bubbles. Bubbles when you are in the bath over age 50 are a really nice idea. His bath was ready and he got in. I hung around in the bathroom with him. We’ve only lived in this house about 8 months and we haven’t taken a lot of baths.
“This bath has a Jacuzzi function, did you know that?” Steve asked me.
“Yes,” I replied.
“Have you ever used it?” he asked.
“No,” I said, “I don’t like chaos and Jacuzzi’s seem chaotic to me.”
“I’d like to try it,” he said.
“Okay,” I replied, “Let’s see if we can figure this out.”
Steve laid his head back while I fiddled around with the controls on the touch screen. Nothing was happening and then suddenly the jets sputtered and sprung into action. And I mean action. The bathwater and bubbles suddenly looked like a gigantic vat of boiling water on steroids.
Then the bubbles began to grow.
“Before we knew it, bubbles were rising up from his waist to his chest and then threatening to envelope his face.
“How do you turn this damn thing off!” he shouted over the rising bubbles and the noise from the jets.
“I don’t know!” I yelled back as I was bailing bubbles with my arms and throwing them into the shower. I had to keep bailing bubbles because they had begun to spill over onto the floor while I had visions of them filling up the entire bathroom. This was a race against time.
“Try anything and everything!” I yelled, “Before those bubbles cover your face!” I frantically kept bailing bubbles into the shower.
It seemed like and eternity but he finally did something that worked and the jets stopped. We stood there staring at each other. Bubbles everywhere! In his eyebrows, his hair, my arms and everywhere else.
“Relaxing bath, honey?” I asked. We burst into hysterics. “Steve, I’m going to go get my phone! I need a picture of this for my blog.”
“No, you’re not,” he replied.
Sorry, no photo!