I'm sorry.
As I embark anew on my blogging ventures, I've noted that the articles and posts that most resonate with the reader are those which offer a fresh viewpoint on a shared experience. So I will start in that thread.
This is an experience of relaxation gone wrong...
I'd finished my first full 40-hour work week of the year, after holidays and illnesses hit the rearview mirror. All forms of precipitation (save hailstones) had fallen during the week, so to end with a sizable snowbase on a Friday afternoon left Jess giddy to leave work and hit the ski trail.
It's been about a year since Jess hit the ski trail.
Jess is a little older than a year ago.
Jess is a little more sore than a year ago.
The lovely jaunt in the 8ºF air left me a bit chilled and a bit worn. A warm bath to welcome the Sabbath and the weekend sounded delightful (this story rated
G, promise). I ran the hot water while I went to the kitchen to assemble - rather, conglomerate - a haphazard but hot meal. As I cooked, the water rose ever higher...and higher...
...but didn't overflow. That's an adventure waiting to happen for a future post, I suspect.
The hot water ran out while I was washing dishes. So I waited for a few minutes before continuing to fill the tub. During that interlude, I perused the internet for bath-y concoctions that would make my bath even more magical. Oatmeal is great in the arid winter for dry, irritated skin, but I'd done a simple oatmeal bath before. It was time for a bath experiment.
As soon as my train of thought paired "experiment" with something that would involve my birthday suit, I should have paused. But that train roared right through the station, leaving Good Reason and Logic dazed and blinking at the platform.
It just so happened that my Amazon wishlist had gotten a tad shorter two days earlier when I received shipment of six popular essential oils. What fate! Perfect for a bathtime experiment! Of course, I did thorough research before mixing the untested concentrated liquids in dark blue glass vials: I skimmed a popular magazine article with no reputable sources whatsoever, looking for recipes that included the few oils I now had. The winning concoction included 10 drops of lavender, 5 drops of peppermint, 5 drops of citrus, and some clove and jojoba oil (I don't know how many drops, since I omitted those). I decided that orange essential oil was close enough to citrus, so substituted accordingly.
The oatmeal seeped slowly from the rubberbanded towel ball I'd fashioned for the bath, making the water cloudy. I uncapped the oils one by one and inverted the vials, trying in vain to count the quick droplets as they plipped into the water, making wide estimates instead. A strange, but pleasant enough aroma filled the bathroom. I decided the citrus scent wasn't strong enough, so added a few more drops of the orange (in retrospect, this raises many red flags). Finally, my bath brew was ready.
I eased into the water, which was a bit too warm for my feet (which have zero thermoregulation capabilities, so this was not particularly concerning), so I propped them up out of the water as I sat.
Ahhhhhhhhh.
It was lovely.
I fought the urge to doze (I'm smart enough to know drowning in one's bathtub is very silly), and reveled for a few minutes. As I sat, the water got significantly warmer in a small area on my left hip. The heated water got a little tingly, too. Then prickly.
The water by my thighs developed the same prickly feeling. Must be getting rid of that cold ski air, I thought (I thought this only because of the brain-train passengers previously referenced as abandoned). Then, my ankles prickled. That peppermint oil is really tingling. But is invigorating supposed to be itchy?
Gasping for breath and waving their arms frantically, Thought's forgotten passengers finally caught up to the train. I stood from the water quickly, inspecting the growing pinkish areas as heretofore mentioned. Four showers' quantity of bath soap was lathered and rinsed erratically into the now draining decoction, as I stood on one leg in a charade akin to the Hot Lava Game to keep as much of my skin as possible away from the now boiling brew (assuredly hyperbole for the shower stream hitting the bath's surface, but by this time, I wasn't relaxed anymore).
The prickly sensation persisted, but did not increase. I raided the ever-present supply of Benadryl (because bees can strike anywhere, at anytime) and quickly self-administered 50 mg of the anti-histamine, just in case.
Now, with arms and eyelids a bit heavy, I struggle to finish typing this snapshot of chagrin, the prickliness (thankfully) only a memory.
Until the next "experiment"...
-jms
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