Bathing

The thing about baths is that they are so nice, so refreshing, that the minute you get in, you are overwhelmed with the sensation of this relaxation, and then as your brain slowly starts to uncongeal and clear of the normal paths of thought, you begin to have Amazing Insights. Insights about life, about the universe, about that TV show you watched last night. . . and as you’re enjoying these amazing insights, thinking proudly of how insightful you’ve suddenly become, you begin to realize that these insights are Important. That they Need to Be Shared. And—worst of all—that if you do not get up out of the nice, relaxing tub immediately, then perhaps all of your hard-earned and earth-shattering insights will slowly seep out of your brain, begin to mix with the bathwater, and then swirl down the drain along with the remnants of bubbles and bath salt.

Next thing you know, you’re dressed in a towel, gripping your keyboard and all the fragments of Insight that still remain like the drops of water evaporating from the small of your back, as the Hounds of Everyday Thinking begin their chase, and before long, you see on the screen before you nothing but trite metaphors and worn-out words and ideas that are weary from having traveled the world so long.

But by then, the bathwater’s cold.