I always aspire to be high maintenance.  Or at least a hedonist, taking pleasure in the finer things in life, things found at a spa.  But once again I have tried and failed in this pursuit.

I decided the other day that I would seek to luxuriate in some of the overpriced bath products sold in one of Boston’s specialty stores.  I purchased a “bath bomb” for bubble bath and this heart shaped soap that is apparently made of butter and chocolate.  Looking back, I probably should have just eaten the soap.

On Sunday our faucet broke, and the water temperature has two settings--frigid and scalding.  The maintenance people who service my building assure me this is not because of the faucet, but because my students are gone for spring break and the water will go back to normal in a week.  Fantastic.  For the 9 days interim, though, I had to get creative about showering.  I decided that a bath would solve this issue, as I would have a base of freezing cold water and then just add the hot water until it was perfect.

My first mistake came when I tried to dissolve the bath bomb when I first turned on the water.  It disintegrated, but did not dissolve since the water was cold.  It ended up not making the water bubble, but instead left white globules of soap detritus that looked alarmingly like something you’d see floating in Boston Harbor.  But I was undeterred, since I figured the water would just heat up and everything would be okay.

But then the water failed to heat up much at all.  A full bath tub had the temperature just approaching tepid. 

Still I got in, determined to relax, because so help me I did not spend 8.50 on soap to have it go to waste.  So I sat in the water shivering, thinking how lovely it was.  I got the butter and chocolate bar and did my best to luxuriate in its fragrant cleansing power, but it just felt like it was leaving an odd brown sheen all over my skin.  Finally I gave up and decided I should just shower it all off, since I was starting to feel like a dessert pastry. 

This is when the hot water decided to come back. 

I ran out of the shower screaming, angry streaks forming across my back.  I went to find my pajamas, only to notice I appeared to be leaving grease marks wherest ever I touched.  Later research revealed that my “bubble bath” was a hand soak for an at-home manicure and the “soap” was a moisturizer bar you were to apply gingerly on your hands.  Not, say, attempt to bathe with it. 

I waited awhile until I was sure the water would only be cold again and scrubbed off the entirety of my epidermal layer with a “soothing exfoliation puff.” Little did I know that the remainder of the butterchocolatebubble attempt would cling to the side of the bathtub and harden into a sediment that not even an ice-scraper could remove. 

Thus it is that I have decided that it is much easier to be stressed and dirty than it is to be relaxed and refreshed.  Though, I am stressed, dirty, and smell like a cookie.  I view this as a win.