Bathtubs might become obsolete
It was bound to happen.
Builders are saying bye-bye to bathtubs.
Say it isn’t so!
A front-page Wall Street Journal story by Maggie Eastland on Aug. 23 reported that homes are getting noticeably smaller. Dining rooms, living rooms and bathtubs could one day become obsolete.
“Most builders and architects follow the same basic playbook to produce tighter, more efficient living spaces,” it said. “They are axing dining areas, bathtubs and separate living rooms.”
I wonder how many of those architects and builders are in charge of cleaning small children. Have they ever tried to chase a toddler around a shower? You can contain a toddler in a tub. You can plop a child in when they’re covered with art projects, peanut butter or worse.
I would never live in a house that didn’t have a tub. Shower lovers don’t get it. My niece cringes at the thought of a bath. “Who wants to soak in their own dirty water?” she gags.
Sure, I love a good hot shower in the morning. The kind that borders on first degree burns and leaves your skin pink and tingling.
I love the feel and sound of running water. Just hearing it flow when I brush my teeth is soothing. Yes, I know we’re supposed to save the Earth and turn it off while brushing, but that water calms my soul.
People need to take more baths. Everyone’s in a big hurry. A bathtub puts on the brakes of life. It’s cheaper than therapy. It’s like being hugged. You get covered in warmth. It’s peace and quiet. It’s Zen solitude.
You can easily accessorize: Bubble bath, Epsom salt, a tub neck pillow, candles and music. I light a scented candle, play classical music, prop a pillow under my neck and a bright green bamboo plant nearby makes it feel like a spa. But no phone. It’s not safe to use one in the tub and the whole point is to escape the world, not bring it with you.
A bath is an instant stress reliever, unless you have a jet tub that isn’t filled properly. A few years ago, we were in a vacation rental house that had a ginormous bathtub with all kinds of jets pointing every which way.
In my defense, it did not come with a manual or a warning sign.
I knew it was a mistake giving my grandchild a bath in that tub as soon as I turned on the jets. I didn’t know you had to fill the tub with enough water to cover all the jets completely.
When I turned on the jets, the sprays went berserk. It was like someone turned a fire hose on us. Water hit me in the face, stomach and legs. Water went everywhere. And I mean everywhere, the ceiling, all four walls and sprayed every towel in the room, making clean up a lot more complicated than you can imagine.
Jetted tubs, once all the rage, have faded away. Too hard to clean and they take too much water to use. That’s fine. I don’t need or want a high-tech tub. Just one long enough and deep enough for a foot of bubbles.
My soaking tub is the focal point of our main bathroom. Our shower is still the quickest way to get clean and the morning go-to. The bathtub is for washing the stress off at the end of the day. It’s a reward you give yourself.
Our last home had a 1920’s claw foot iron tub on the third floor. It was like taking a bubble bath in a tree house. When we moved four years ago, we added a free-standing soaking tub to our new home. It’s deep, but not for the water. It’s so I can disappear and leave behind the world.
Trends have shifted, but not for me.
Every day I see the yellow sticky note on my computer screen that reads, “Be water, my friend.”
Actor Bruce Lee also said: “Be like water making its way through cracks…You must be shapeless, formless, like water. When you pour water in a cup, it becomes the cup. When you pour water in a bottle, it becomes the bottle. When you pour water in a teapot, it becomes the teapot. Water can flow or it can crash. Be water my friend.”
Or be tub, my friend.
Be tub.
#bathtub #showers