It was a wonderful weekend filled with cleaning up teenage vomit and spilt pancake batter.
…..But that’s what parents do.
It’s the anxious Monday morning blues and as we head into the middle of January, we have the threat of winter. We’ve been lucky in Chicagoland to get this far and not have any major snow storms or dreaded Polar vortex events.
The network weather girls are trying desperately to make this into an Armageddon event, but the people at the Jumbo weather bureau are calling for rain and wet snow. Maybe an accumulation of a couple inches, but two inches of heart attack snow, so be careful.
It is Bubble Bath day, but when you have a bubble butt and a standard bathtub… you don’t get to celebrate with your rubber ducky.
I’d love one of the claw foot tubs from the Cialis commercial. I’d have one of those wire baskets that hooks on each side and stretches across the tub. Something to put my martini glass and Charcuterie board onto.
I’d have Hilary, the Riverside soapmaker put together a lavender, mint, eucalyptus bath bomb for me. Hazel loves Hilary’s bath bombs.
Next to my claw tub would be a coat rack with my robe. A robe made from virgin wool from the Andes Mountains.
I’m in a daydream and it isn’t even Tuesday, sorry Freddy Jones.
No bubble baths for me today, just my daily James Bond shower.
Tonight is the championship for college football. I’ll be watching “Antiques Roadshow” on PBS and wishing I had a bathtub big enough for me to take a bubble bath!
