I am addicted to pleasure.  I am a full-blown hedonist and I make no apology for it.  Indeed, I celebrate and encourage this aspect of my personality.  My favorite word is AND.  Go big or go home.  Enjoy yourself, it’s later than you think.  Etc. I have many mottos that at heart just mean I am into the good stuff. 

And good stuff does not necessarily mean expensive stuff.  For instance, this morning I had a bubble bath. A long, luxurious one with a fine hand-milled oatmeal soap scented with vanilla.  I smell like a warm cookie on this very cold morning.   

I used to take a bubble bath every night and then my bathtub developed a leak in the wall that would necessitate tearing out the wall to repair. So, I switched to the walk-in shower.   

Showers are utilitarian. Get in, soap up, get out.  Where is the fun in that?  It’s like loading the dishwasher–necessary but not fulfilling.   

I just love a proper bubble bath.  Today’s was not up to my usual standards as I was at my mom’s house, it was 5 am and I was trying to be quiet while she slept.  When I bathe at home – the following are required: 

My debilitated body now has trouble getting in and out of the tub, but that doesn’t stop me.  It’s just an awkward, clumsy 30 seconds or so.  Not graceful, not natural, and rather ugly, but the bath itself makes up for all of that. 

After this morning’s bath, my New Year’s resolution is more moments of utter hedonism.  Moments to wallow in comfort and splendor and beauty and tranquility.  Bubble baths, champagne in a hollow stemmed flute, 1000 thread count sheets, a good book on a Sunday afternoon, more moments of snuggling with the puppies, homecooked meals, coffee in a blue & white mug, and too many pillows on the sofa draped with the big fluffy blanket.   

Life has been too hard lately, but there’s much I can do to offset that and I’m going to do it.  All because I just love bubble baths. And I’m a hedonist.