Calgon, Take Me Away!

A hot bath. A darkened room. A candle. The Paul Simon Songbook playing. (Proof that this is definitely not a "gay blog": I get off on 41-year-old acoustic folk songs.) The dogs are at their other dad's place, so no frigid late-night walk immediately after coming in from the frigid cold.

I couldn't get out of the classroom fast enough tonight, my feet freezing, my nose sniffling, my brain fried and therefore the only warm thing about my body. Then, out of the kindness of my heart, I had to agree to drive a student home. (I secretly cannot stand chatting, or having to follow someone else's chatter -- uh-huh, uh-huh, and then what? -- after two and a half hours of teaching. My drive home is my quiet time! But I did it anyway.)

Finally, the bath. The problem is my hot-water heater has a problem. There's enough hot water to fill only about a quarter of the tub, so I have to heat the kettle and several pots on the stove to the boiling point and haul them to the bathroom to supplement it. By the time the water on the stove is hot, I can run a bit more hot water in the tub. Finally I end up with a more or less full, more or less hot bath. It's all just a little too Little House on the Prairie.