aths might seem like an odd subject for an article. In fact they are an odd subject for an article, but since I enjoy taking them so much, I guess they deserve a spot. While I enjoy them, I don't actually take them that often, which is probably a major reason I enjoy it so much when I finally do take one.  A bath is my favorite way to relax after a physically hard day, it's my favorite place to sit/lie while I read, and now that I have Malaya to share them with they're great places to talk, trade back or foot rubs, and just generally spend time together.

I don't blog about taking a bath very often, but when I occasionally endure/enjoy a rather odd one, it sometimes winds up in the blog.

More recent updates are on top of this page.

January 25, 2003

I took the oddest bath of my life tonight.

This afternoon, when I rolled out of bed around 1pm, I attempted to wash some dishes and immediately discovered that there was no hot water.  I don't mean the water wasn't hot, I mean turning the hot faucet had no more effect than suggesting to Anna Nicole Smith that maybe "another Bonbon" isn't the answer to all of life's difficulties.

There was cold water, at least.  But not for long.

Around 3 pm I was about ready to go out and do some stuff, but I felt sort of sweaty and grimy in the warm afternoon.  But as there was still no hot water, I just washed off my face and chest at the bathroom sink in cold water, and headed out.  Where I headed is described below.

When I got back around 4:30, there was no water at all.  Just a rattle when the faucets were turned.  A note on my door informed me that there was a hot water leak in another apartment (this happens at least 4 or 5x a year in this apt complex), and that I'd have no hot water most of the day, and no water at all at some point.

I considered cooking something, but the only thing I really wanted was potato stir fry, (which I'll post the recipe to at some point) and for some reason the thought of frying in hot oil with no possibility of cold water in case of accidental hand-frying weighed heavily on my mind.   I can't recall ever burning myself more than a little splatter or two in the dozens of times I've stir fried, but I knew that if I ever did, it would be the one time turning on the sink would have no flame-quenching effect.

I was here until about 7pm, and that whole time there was still no water.  The plumbers, when they come to fix the latest "hot water leak under the slab" (which is what they always call it) are almost always done by 5 or 5:30, so this was unusual.  I left, headed over to dad's to make quesadillas and watch the Lakers (who lost again) and when I got back here around 10, there was indeedy water.

Not checking how hot the hot was, I decided upon a bath and some reading, and even poured in some bubble bath stuff, for a treat.  Yes, bubble bath.  No, I don't have a vagina.  Bit me.

Anyway, I turned on the hot about half a twist, and cold about a third of a twist and while that was filling I fed the rats and got a snack.  Only once the tub was nearly full, and the bubbles were foaming like the mouth of a rabid schnauzer, did I think to check the water.  Which was as tepid as yesterday's soup.

You know how it is when you're all set to eat something, and you start to prepare it only to realize half way through that you ran out of some crucial and irreplaceable ingredient the day before?  Well my bread was toasted and the chunky peanut butter was spread... but I had no raspberry preserves. Metaphorically speaking.

Even turning on the hot only produced not much more than a slightly warm flow.  I didn't know how long since they'd finished their plumbing work it had been, but however long it obviously wasn't long enough for the water to heat up.  Especially since I imagine everyone in the units next to and below mine leaped into their showers and started to wash dishes the minute the water came back on.  The nerve of them, using up my bath water.

Being as my bath was trying to take place around 1am, the hot seemed to be refilling very slowly, so I suspect they didn't turn it back on fully after their work, or maybe there are two or more hot water heaters, and not all of them are back in service as of yet.

But lukewarm water was no object to me, since I was already naked and primed for action.  So to speak.  The bubbles were bubbled, the snacks were ready, the book was in place. But the water wasn't warm.

So I filled up a 4 quart measuring cup and started nuking it, and turned on the stove and put a big pasta-boiling pot on high, while I washed dishes and tidied up some stuff.  It took about 12 minutes for the water to be nearly boiling, and I hustled in the pot and dumped it into the tub, and followed that with the measuring cup.  The 12 or so quarts of nearly boiling water took the tub from "shivery" to "tolerable", so I put the water back on to boil, set the timer for 12 minutes, and hopped in.

And after 12 minutes, I would stand up, sluice water off my legs so as not to drip too much, and trot into the kitchen, returning with the two containers of hot water.  This went on, like some sort of Middle Ages self-service bath, for about an hour.  Each load of water was enough to make the tub pretty toasty for about five minutes (at least in contrast to how cold it had been a minute before), and slowly raised the overall water temperature to near normal bath heat.

Surprisingly-enough, I still enjoyed the bath and reading, even punctuated as it was with dripping runs through the apartment, each one taking three trips and enough time to fill up the measuring cup/pot again, and put them back on the heat.

Now what I needed was a fetching servant girl in one of those busty peasant dresses, like they have in the movies, to bring regular pails of warm water, and to scrub my back and other things while it was heating. Or perhaps just functional modern plumbing in the first place.

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