ode to the bubble bath

The best way to cure a beaten body after too many hours spent at the pub and not enough hours spent in bed is neither catching more sleep on an uncomfortable armchair or the sofa nor is it drinking copious amounts of very strong, very black coffee. A quick shower might seem invigorating for a moment but the physical collapse is merely postponed...

A bath, a hot, long, relaxing bath on the other hand is the closest to heaven you can get after such nights. The first hot drops help to get over the chill of the tub, slowly the water rises, whirls around your yet cold body and pulls you ever more deeply into its embrace. The additives emitting their tantalising scent. Heat and opaque vapours billowing all around. Lean back and struggle with the drowsiness suddenly taking hold of you. The water brings the tub to life, an inconspicuous home-made monster never wanting to let go of you again. Lazy you lift an arm or a leg and watch the foam drawing patterns onto your skin whilst it's slowly dripping down. Idly you play with the water, diving down from time to time, flicking a small drop of water into the direction of the cat that is tentatively watching you from the sink.
After another twenty to thirty minutes the water cools down a bit, your fingers and toes start looking like dead pale pieces of meat and you decide to finally get out. 
Emerging from the water. The sound of a whole ocean rushing down. Wet footprints on the tiles. Your body radiating warmth. Quickly put on the bathrobe, before the cold comes back and cuddle up on the sofa with a cup of tea, a good book and the cosy cat...