Once again I had the great idea of taking a long, hot, relaxing bath, having a serious discussion with myself about my life and where it might be going depending on the decisions I make, lighted candles, a little bath oil for that soothing spa feeling and to combat the dry skin I’ve been having since losing water weight on my eating plan…and despite all my positive feelings about the matter, once again I have been thwarted by the impractical design of the American bathtub, which was compounded this time by the water heater’s decision that it had worked enough today and I and my bath could simply go without its services. So no hot relaxing bath – more like luke warm (maybe) with half my body taking turns freezing, as wet skin does when encountering air. Now I am chilled, put out, and thoroughly disgusted as has happened on many occasions where I had the same misguided idea about bathing and am determined to find some answers – namely who the idiot is (or was) who designed a bathtub that was neither long enough, deep enough or took the human form into any consideration whatsoever.
If you haven’t already discerned from my ranting, this is one of my few pet peeves. My husband has long known about and even been commandeered for the eventual construction of a tub to my personally designed specifications. The only commercial tub worth a damn, in my opinion, is the antique claw foots, which sadly they don’t make any more as far as I know. You can have them re-enameled, refitted with feet (for $50 a piece and up), and sometimes find them at junk yards and vintage plumbing stores, but you can’t go to your local Home Depot and select one for immediate home delivery. Cast iron, though ideal for maintaining water temperature, is apparently too heavy and expensive for everyone involved.
Our European neighbors don’t have this problem. During the break of my junior year in high school I was lucky enough to take a tour of Europe with the American Bands program. I played an instrument at the time, but not for the traveling band. What I did do was take a bath in every single hotel we staying in that had a tub, because they were all long, deep and fabulous. Needless to say, I was extremely relaxed upon returning home. And have been completely frustrated since.
Next day:
Ok, so I didn’t find the twit who designed the current bathtub. What I found was some crazy story published back in the 1800’s as a jest to ease wartime tension that somehow became gospel. You can read the abbreviated history here. Then my search evolved into looking up what it costs these days to obtain one of the fabulous claw foot tubs I love so much. I found my dream tub, pictured here: a 6’ long classic claw foot. I’ve died and gone to heaven when I get one of those!
If you haven’t already discerned from my ranting, this is one of my few pet peeves. My husband has long known about and even been commandeered for the eventual construction of a tub to my personally designed specifications. The only commercial tub worth a damn, in my opinion, is the antique claw foots, which sadly they don’t make any more as far as I know. You can have them re-enameled, refitted with feet (for $50 a piece and up), and sometimes find them at junk yards and vintage plumbing stores, but you can’t go to your local Home Depot and select one for immediate home delivery. Cast iron, though ideal for maintaining water temperature, is apparently too heavy and expensive for everyone involved.
Our European neighbors don’t have this problem. During the break of my junior year in high school I was lucky enough to take a tour of Europe with the American Bands program. I played an instrument at the time, but not for the traveling band. What I did do was take a bath in every single hotel we staying in that had a tub, because they were all long, deep and fabulous. Needless to say, I was extremely relaxed upon returning home. And have been completely frustrated since.
Next day:
Ok, so I didn’t find the twit who designed the current bathtub. What I found was some crazy story published back in the 1800’s as a jest to ease wartime tension that somehow became gospel. You can read the abbreviated history here. Then my search evolved into looking up what it costs these days to obtain one of the fabulous claw foot tubs I love so much. I found my dream tub, pictured here: a 6’ long classic claw foot. I’ve died and gone to heaven when I get one of those!
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