People waste time at the office–we all know that.  They hang out at the water cooler, take long smoke breaks, sneak onto Facebook and email when no one is watching.
Working at home comes with its own set of time-wasting temptations.
Particularly when I had no one to drive to school in the morning, when I was still in my nightgown when the door closed behind everyone, the obvious temptation was to go back to bed, and I indulged in it regularly.  I didn’t sleep all day–I set the clock for 9–and given that I’m often working well into the night getting the work done wasn’t really an issue.  But I found that these morning naps weren’t restful.  All too often they were filled with anxiety dreams.  And now I have to get up and dressed–more or less–anyway, to take William to school.  So I gave up morning naps.
Nowadays I sit down at the computer with my coffee as soon as I get back to the house after dropping off William.  I allow myself time to check in with all my social media.  Sometimes I write my blog post then, but I’ve mostly switched to doing that at night.  Then I get to work.
Major interruptions make it difficult for me to get back into my groove.  So I try to work without stopping until I get hungry.  After lunch I work until the last possible minute, then take my shower and go to pick up kids.  That effectively ends the majority of my work day.  I may work later in the evening but I can’t ever manage to do anything productive in the afternoon hours.
And now for the past three days I’ve indulged in a temptation that cuts into my most productive time.
This temptation is one I did not give into for a long time.  It’s something I used to indulge in regularly that was unavailable to me for a couple of years.  I knew I shouldn’t start doing it again or I would become powerless against its allure.
But it’s been chilly here lately.  And my office is on the back side of the house, and it’s shaded, and it’s the coldest room in the house.  On Tuesday it suddenly occurred to me what I could do (short of turning up the thermostat or putting on more clothes) to get cozy and warm.  I promised myself I would stop working 45 minutes earlier and treat myself.  And then I treated myself on Wednesday.  And again today.  Where will it end?
What did I do, you ask?  I took a bath.
See. when we lived in the Victorian house, we had a serious tub.  The original clawfoot tub big enough for an adult to stretch out in and be submerged in up to the neck.  I loved that tub.  When I was pregnant with Lorelei, nightly baths were a particular indulgence.  I spent my early labor with her in the tub as well.  I sought comfort with a book and a drink in that tub when I was stressed out, or not feeling well, or just in need of time for myself.  That tub is one of the things I missed the most when we moved out.
And of course after that I was just spoiled for any kind of regular bath.  There’s nothing comfortable or relaxing about a regular-sized bathtub after having enjoyed such luxury.  For two years I stuck to showers.
I knew I was in trouble when I saw the tub in the master bath.  In fact, I didn’t use it for months because I knew once I did I was lost.
These baths I’ve taken for the past three days?  These weren’t quick soaks.  A bath in this tub is serious business.  I have an array of shower gels to make bubbles.  I have a candle.  The tub has JETS.  It’s so big I can float in it if I wanted.  Oh, and did I mention the tankless hot water heater?  Yes, there’s an advantage over our Victorian tub, which you could only fill once until the hot water ran out.  When I get into this tub I don’t get out for half an hour or longer.  Particularly when I bring a book with me.  Or fall asleep.
I am seriously sitting here wondering if it would be ridiculous to take two baths in one day?  Will I succumb tomorrow? All signs point to yes.

Lorelei in what she calls the “spa bath,” because I can’t very well put up a picture of ME in the tub.



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