Weekend Log: Naked and afraid

Happy Juneteenth, Midlifers!

Here’s a funny, and slightly harrowing, story to kick off what for many of us is a long weekend.

Let me set the stage:

It is a recent Saturday night and I’ve had a super busy day connecting with friends. I’ve sat next to women I admire at an early morning recovery meeting and had coffee afterwards with a few of them and then later, met up with another friend for a long walk and great conversation. It’s been all fresh air and warm connections and I am ready to relax.

To cap off the day, I have planned to take a bath in the deep Jacuzzi tub I inherited when I moved into my new place earlier this year. The condo was built in the late 1980s and this unit has retained some of the vestiges that, back then, probably seemed very modern and stylish. There’s a large mirrored wall in the dining room and all the ceilings were sprayed with that bumpy popcorn finish — it’s in the bedrooms, kitchen and even covers the soaring vaulted ceiling in the main living area.

Another relic from the past is the Jacuzzi tub in the primary bath. And while the surrounding tile has been updated to a faux-marble finish, the deep tub with the jets and what looks to be the original faucet and handles still lords over my new bathroom. Another old-timey feature are the mirrored walls that frame the bathtub area, which I wrote about not long ago.

They stretch from the ledge surrounding the Jacuzzi on three sides and go right up to the ceiling and it’s taken me a while to come to terms with seeing myself in my full glory on the daily. My mirror situations, whether deliberate or not, in the last few places I’ve lived in have been pretty minimal. It’s been quite some time (ever?) since I’ve had access to an unfettered view of my backside. It’s taken some getting used to.

So, it’s about 7:00 on a Saturday night and I’m excited to take what will be only the second bath I’ve enjoyed since I moved in. Initially, there was an issue with the stopper that took a while for a repair guy to get to. But now, it’s working and I am setting the perfect scene for this night of personal wellness and caretaking.

The warm water is filling the oversized tub and I am busy making final preparations. I have sprinkled a few shovel’s-full of Epsom salt from a jar sitting on the tub ledge and squirted some lavender-scented oil into the water for good measure. For Mother’s Day, one of my girls had given me one of those tub trays that stretches across its expanse that can hold a book or even a glass of wine. But since I am listening to my current book (Elizabeth Strout’s latest) and (thankfully) no longer requiring booze to relax, I’ve just put my phone on top of the wooden tray to access my audiobook.

I’m wearing my oversized headphones, which my kids sometimes jokingly ask if I’m heading to a DJ gig when they see me wearing them. But ear buds don’t stay put in my ears and these honkers are Wirecutter’s budget pick and I really like them. I’m always wearing them to listen to books or podcasts when I’m walking the dog or folding laundry or — I hate to say — sometimes to watch TikTok videos when I’m brushing me teeth at night.

I’ve dimmed the lights, lit a candle, shed my clothes stepped into the deep tub and slowly started to lower myself into the warm water. I made especially sure I did not make the bathwater too hot, as I did during my inaugural condo bath and emerged about 40 minutes later looking as if I had been literally cooked. I could see in the mirrors that my legs had turned the color of the lobster dinner I always treat myself to when I go to Maine in the summer. As if my legs were ready to be doused in butter and given a squirt of lemon.

As I begin to lower myself in, and because I can never just do one thing at a time, I also start turning the tub handles to stop the flow of water. I’m in mid crouch as I turn the cold water on the right off, but the hot water lever continues turning to the right. In a panic, I try twisting it the other way, unable to remember which way was off as very hot water continues to fill the tub.

Then, the handle seems very loose and just kind of spinning when suddenly, it is in my hand and hot water is now also spraying from where it had come from, like a geyser up into the ether of the bathroom.

I lunge forward and immediately, my phone tips off the wooden bath tray and plunges into the tub.