I like baths. No, I love baths. There's something about sliding under a mountain of foam into water that is warm and deep enough to soothe away the aches, smelling gently of something which is entirely unrelated to any kind of bodily fluid. Hmm, bath "milk" isn't dairy, right?
My greatest luxury is a long uninterrupted bath. It's my treat when we stay in hotels, my hardship when we stay in hospitals (showers only), and my top means of relaxation when life gets busy at home.
Trouble is, when life is busy, the time to have a bath vanishes.
As I mentioned, I had planned for a proper bath on Tuesday. Didn't happen. No time on Monday either. Nor yesterday, rushing out to get the girls to school in time for their nativity play. This morning was a possibility; if I could just keep Little Fish in bed a little later then she would be able to eat breakfast whilst I had a bath; not quite the same levels of relaxation but a lot better than nothing.
All good in theory. However Piccadilly Circus had nothing on us this morning. Little Fish up super early. Mog also awake but since she'd been up since 2 I'm not sure whether that counts as an extra early morning or just a cancelled night. Someone painting Mog's bedroom again. Three builders working on our extension. The cleaner. And, as piece de la resistance, the physiotherapist I'd forgotten about.
A busy day, tired children, early into bed. Mog too tired for a shower even. So it was looking positive for tonight. Little Fish's ventilator beeping for an hour, but I have now fixed that. Harder to fix is the fact that Mog, having had an hour's sleep, is now convinced it's time to get up again.
That'll be negative on the bath tonight then.