Notes from the Tub
I just stepped into a tub that was clearly too hot, and I have learned something about heat that I didn’t know before, and while I still don’t want to eat lobster because I feel sorry for them – I think I do understand the situation a little better of what it feels like to be thrown into a boiling cauldron. I didn’t just gingerly test the water with my toe like a normal person; no I jumped right in and sunk up to my shins in what smelled like water but felt like lava. The first millisecond my muscles jerked and I had the idea of getting out, but the heat was so intense it was like my muscles just gave up. In my mind I actually thought, “Go ahead and cut up the potatoes and onions,” because I knew I wasn’t going anywhere, but still that is a weird thought to have go through your head. Which led me to my next thought, “That was a weird thought to have.” Apparently internal monologues are what happen when you’re boiling alive.
The sad part is that I was really looking forward to a hot bath because I had been outside in the freezing cold cutting wooden panels to paint on, and the idea of a steamy bath just sounded sooo good. I knew the tub was cold so I thought what would be a good idea would be to just use water from the hot tap only, because the coldness of the tub would cool it off, and make everything nice and warm. I know, I agree with you- I’m in the future with you now as well, that was a dumb thing to do, but where were you a minute ago when all this was going down? The saddest part about all of this is poor little Jack out there who will be looking to me expecting some sort of sage fatherly advice about how to get through life, and here I sit typing this blog while partially parboiled. Good thing he has a smart momma.