“Just relax,” they say. I always look confused. Relaxation baffles me. There’s nothing peaceful about it. I watch commercials with that lady in the bubble bath with the candles and the wine, and I get twitchy. I’d like to be that lady, but the reality is that by the time I actually got into that tub, I would have scrubbed it, taken the dirty rags to the laundry room and noticed I hadn’t folded the last load of laundry, switched out a load, put the towels away and noticed I had run the tub over because I forgot I started running the water.
Today I decided to do the unthinkable: light some candles and soak in a deep tub with bath salts and candles.
I actually made it there without running over the tub. So the tub wasn’t even full yet, and I was wondering why I didn’t think to bring my phone into the room so I’d know what time to get out. I heard the dryer buzz, and then remembered that I needed to sweep the floors and make the beds. No, I already made the beds, whew!
“Relax,” I told myself. Then I remembered the essays I was supposed to finish grading before class. “Stop it!” I demanded. Then my leg started twitching. I may as well wash my hair, I thought. Then I won’t have to do it later.
By the time I got out of the tub, dressed myself, and walked back to my office at the bottom of the stairs–I know you’re jealous–I had driven myself into a frenzy. I had only ten minutes left before my next class. Those papers don’t grade themselves, and now I had only ten minutes. Sure the salts smell great, but now I’m stressed out trying to play catch up.
I’m just not meant to linger in luxury I suppose. My luxury is in the kitchen cooking, or even washing dishes while I hum a favorite hymn. That’s who I am, and that’s okay.
…and that’s the view from My Front Porch.