Okay, first, sorry I missed last week.
I’m having some significant coping issues right now.
Everything seems too much. Jeff Epstein’s “suicide”. The president and his wife posing with an orphaned infant when his words caused the infant to be orphaned in the first place. We have a recession looming and I don’t know that we aren’t going to go all in on fascism.
I knew it would be bad. But I still get gut punched. Every fucking day.
So, I haven’t been up for writing and have sucked at responding to comments. But please know, I love you all and I value our community here.
I know we’re all doing the best we can. I have to give myself a break.
I’m not going anywhere. I’m just floundering a bit.
But that isn’t what I want to talk about.
I want to talk about bath bombs.
First, the title. Remember that song You Dropped A Bomb On Me? I hated that song when it came out.
But after decades have passed? If I hear it now, I’m singing along. I will be singing ” Eye. Eye Eye. Eye Eye Eye” at the top of my lungs. Same goes with Ice Ice Baby and Hammer Time.
What does that have to do with bath bombs?
Absolutely nothing. Welcome to my head.
So, it’s Saturday and we made the decision to do the bare minimum of responsible adulting and to spend the rest of the time watching TV and being slugs.
I decided to take a hot bath, which is something I love to do, but don’t often do.
I fucking love bath bombs. Especially when little surprises pop out at the end. I had a tube of bath bombs for the longest time, but they have since been consumed.
A month or so ago, I found a shimmery gold bath bomb at TJ Maxx. It sat in the cabinet above my sink and was pretty much forgotten about until this morning.
I learned that one should never, ever buy a gold bath bomb.
Do you know what gold bath bombs make your bath water look like after they dissolve?
What this shit is this? This looks like infected piss. My bathwater looks like it was collected from the failing kidney ward at the hospital. Holy shit.
No, wait. Beer. It looks like beer. Definitely beer.
It does not look like beer. It looks like snow that has been driven through and then pissed on by a Great Dane.
And what is that smell? What is it. It’s not a piss smell. It’s…ginger? Maybe ginger? I don’t fucking know.
I couldn’t get past the fact that I was bathing in what appeared to be hot, infected pee.
Anyway, my relaxing bath didn’t last long. I mean, a little blue flower popped out at the end of the bath bomb, but it just looked sad, floating there on top of what looked like pee mixed with Dr Pepper.
I started the shower and rinsed off.
The residue around my tub makes it look like I don’t clean my tub enough. Which is entirely true.
I guess that will be on my agenda for Sunday.
I’m not giving up the rest of my slug day.
I hope you all are well and weathering the storms that keep coming at us in waves. I’m glad you are here. I am glad I am here, too.
Photo courtesy of PublicDomainPictures.