What is more relaxing than a bubble bath? NOTHING. The answer is NOTHING. Okay, maybe a bubble bath where Ryan Gosling and/or Scarlett Johansson massages your achy feet and tells you you're wonderful.
Right?
So after slogging through the snow, schlepping around DTW, waiting for a two hour delay and another hour home from the Houston airport, that would be perfect, yes? NO. I WANTED TO FUCKING SLEEP.
Justin concurred and we settled on just me taking the bubble bath to save time. And since I kinda really didn't want to (I know, first world problems - sue me), we went all out on the relaxation. We lit incense, picked the best soap for bubbles and, of course, I had a Diet Dr. Pepper because duh.
And Polo Bear. I heart Polo Bear.
Once the bath was drawn and the bubbles frothy, I was feeling a lot less unreasonably bitchy about having to take a relaxing bath. When we first came up with the holiday, we were going to look up the science of bubbly soap and share it or some shit like that. We did not. Though I did build a bubble castle because I am a five year old.
It stopped sucking fairly quickly.
Once I was in the bath it was quite pleasant, which I rather assume is the point. Justin unpacked a little, hung out in the bathroom with me and played the Pandora comedy channel, which was amazing. Other than not being able to submerge my left hand, it was lovely all around.
Because tattoo.
I think, under any other circumstance, a holiday devoted to bubble baths would be unadulterated awesomeness. It was definitely the right choice for yesterday because neither of us could imagine having to do anything more involved than taking a bath at the end of that day. It was definitely calming and pleasant overall.
And then we went to sleep. And sleep was amazing. The end.
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