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I’m doing a remarkably poor job of this Holidailies thing. I can and will cash in the excuse that I’ve got a teething baby in the house and most of our waking hours are filled with a peculiar fractious grunting noise which is slowly grating my nerves into coleslaw. I will be beyond pleased when this particular phase of things resolves itself. In the meantime, there is baby acetaminophen and freezy toys. My hat is entirely off to the generations past who had to go through this all without such technologies.

So, excuses made, I’d like to rave a bit about one of my favorite things to do these days: nap in the bathtub. Seriously, it is one of the great sensual pleasures of our age to run a hot bath, climb in, lean back, and zonk out.

It is faintly embarrassing to fall asleep in the bath so often, but on the other hand, it is so comprehensively delightful to have a nap all enveloped in hot water that I’ve shaken off the shame and fully embraced the pleasure in bathtub-napping. And why not? It’s low cost, hygienic, fat-free, and doesn’t contravene any of the laws of Leviticus. Unless you’ve got mildew in your bath. In which case, there are Leviticussy problems. As there are in so many aspects of our poly-cotton modern times.

And I suppose if you were ambitious enough to eke out a crafty wank whilst soaking in the bath, that would be a Leviticus problem, too. What a bugger. Oh yes, another freakin’ law broken.

Look, just run a hot damn bath, boil your bottom, have a nice little snooze, don’t get up to no funny business, and wipe down the tub when you’re done. It’s all good then. All very, very, very good indeed.

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