Chandler is That You?

On television and in the movies, you always see a person in a lovely, roomy, bathtub, surrounded by candles. These people are always happy and obviously enjoying themselves. It's not that way in my life, I find baths boring and inconvenient. I prefer showers.

As part of the therapy that my butt doctor prescribed, I am supposed to sit in a super hot bath once a day. So Saturday night, there I was, sitting in our crummy little tub with the radio on, and no candles. Once in a while one of the cats or Chandler would wander in to say hello and break up the monotony, but other than that it was a bore. I had been sitting there about ten minutes, and had just said goodbye to Chandler when the room suddenly went black. Not just dark, but pitch black, with not even a pin hole of light to be seen. The power had gone out again. I sat there for a few seconds waiting for my eyes to adjust to the darkness, but there was no adjusting to be done because the entire neighborhood had gone black. Still sitting there, naked, in the dark, in the tub, I suddenly felt the warm wetness of Chandler's tongue on my cheek. It was time to get out of there. Lest I leave you with the image of me stumbling around the house naked and wet, searching for a flashlight, I'll tell you that I had a towel handy.

It took the power company three hours to finally turn the electric back on, and having no TV, or even a light to read by, I settled in with a couple of cocktails, and listened to the silence. I’ll still do my little sitz bath in the future, but the next time I’ll light the candles before I get in the tub. It’ll be so romantic.