My Tub

A miss and her tub should non be messed with. My full- be slnklng deal with relaxing jets is my form of relaxation in this rat race c onlyed life. Even though, I am surrounded by funky clothes, piles of forgotten cosmetics and beauty products with flexible toy animals staring at me, I am alone. I lock the entrance and barricade myself from my husband, two small boys, visit calls, laundry, and life. I turn off the hit light and let the natural sunrays from exterior come through the window.I force open the soles of my tired feet or I might run the dull razor up and down my hairy legs, but broadly I Just sit. I mingy my eyes while putting up my feet and letting my mind race to an conceptional world where things are simple. I let the genus Oestrus from the hot water steam clean up my glasses. I let the heat turn my skin pink from the complete temperature differences in the room and melt external my stress and worries.The sweat runs down my position and mixes with the w ashed away make-up, dirt, and tears. It forms puddles and trickles down my body and drift away In the commodious pool. I conquer all of lifes dilemmas, family squabbles, and do stress on deserted island in the bathroom. And when it is over, I would like to think they all disappear down the drain for a temporary leave. This is my secret clubhouse that I retreat to for relief. My tub is my own and should not be messed with.