Today, Bubble Bath Day, should have been nice and relaxing; an oasis of calm between the stresses of the past week and the one yet to come.

However, those of you who own cats will appreciate that the worst chaos can result from the simplest tasks, such as preparing a meal, wrapping a present, or in this instance filling the large container in the tiled room at the back of the house with frothy water.

I’d had a great weekend so far, which included meeting DOTY’s creator face-to-face for the first time over a couple of beers, so ending my Sunday with a lovely, big, warm, foamy bath that made the mirror steam up and the room smell sweet and intoxicating was the perfect way to end it.

Being a man, I don’t do these things by halves, so accompanying the gargantuan blob of bubble bath was a bath bomb, some bath crystals, a little bath oil and anything else I could find that had the word ‘bath’ on its label. The result looked like a cloud had dropped from the sky and taken refuge beneath the toiletries shelf, which was most appealing and made me feel rather proud.

Now, as for that previous ‘however’. Though my cats, James and Miyako, hate any water that’s outside of their drinking bowls, they’re absolutely fascinated by the bathroom. They peer into the toilet like children dropping coins down a wishing well; the soap, comb and toothbrush seem intriguingly alien to them, to the point that they can spend up to an hour tentatively extending their paws, only to then retract at the final centimetre; and the bath itself makes them act like Indiana Jones in a freshly discovered tomb. So imagine the allure of millions of tiny, popping bubbles, which magically disappear when you touch them, reaching two feet above the water’s surface: they become totally possessed!

In the time it took me to run, take and drain a bath, practically every item in that room, from conditioner to deodorant and toilet brush to candle (thankfully an unlit one), had crashed to the floor or onto my head. And then, just as the nightmare was finally at an end and the last of the suds circled the plughole, James tore down the shower curtain, scaring Miyako half to death and causing her to shoot into the kitchen, blindly trailing the wet towel behind her.

It takes something like this to remind me why I’m a shower man. Bubble baths are just too damn stressful!


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