Here I sit, in my bathtub of metaphors.

This bathtub has served me well. It has given me warm, wet hugs every morning for as long as I can remember. My bathtub doesn't expect much from me, and that's why I love it so much. My bathtub is willing to take me at my worst, even sans clothing, and let me just . . . be. 

Is the water too cold or hot? Bathtub can fix that in a minute flat. Just turn the knobs.

If there's not enough water in the tub, that's when I actually do my best to help the tub accommodate me. I realize the tub was built with a drain in the front of it to make sure it doesn't overflow severely, but it's a design flaw in my eyes. Anything that keeps me from filling the tub to it's maximum potential and in doing so exposes any part of my knees and chest above the soothing warmth of the water is definitely a design flaw. No two words about it. 

I'll unscrew the overflow plate, and stuff it with a washcloth, making sure if the water does drain, it's at a much reduced rate so for an hour or two I can be in my warm tub-cocoon. If you haven't tried it I recommend it enthusiastically.

However, don't be silly. Don't fill it with bubbles. Bubbles aren't relaxing. They crunch and move, make sounds and threaten to pop near the eye, an organ which doesn't care for soapy things entering into it. A bubble bath doesn't make sense in my world. I don't care if you like bubbles. You can extol the virtues of bubble baths on your own site. This is mine. No bubbles.

I can effectively stay in my warm bath for as long as I'd like. No part of me hurts or is uncomfortable while I am in here so other than my fingers and toes getting a little prune-y there is very little reason to leave my tub of luxury.

Food? Sure. Eventually I will need to eat and other... food related activities. But I'm not hungry now so I am content to sit in my miniature pool. My comfortable pool of inactivity. 

I could get out of the tub at any time. I have towels and dry clothing with which I could dress myself. I could use the time I have every morning to do something productive. There are dozens of things I could do if I removed myself from the bath. I do none of them. Why do I do none of them? 

Because the tub-cocoon is warm and undemanding. I can control the temperature, the depth, and the time I spend in it. No one asks anything of me in the depths of its waters. So more often than not I choose to stay as long as I can. Whenever I get out, the air is cold and the floor is slippery.

There is nothing comfortable about the world outside of my bathtub. 

If someone pulls me out, then I'd be exposed and cold and... embarrassed. That's one of the reasons I am sure to lock the door. Always.

I do eventually get out, but not until the very last moment. 

I guess what I am trying to say is: I like baths.