Towel Creek

                  Yesterday was a tough day.  Work was difficult and messy. At one point I found myself covered in fine white powder due to the diligent efforts of about a zillion dry wall workers sanding the walls smooth in our newest building.  Then while covered in a fine white powder I proceeded to school to take a test on blueprint reading.  The road from blue to white is an arduous one.  On the way home I stopped to buy some beer to reward myself for all of my hard work.  I don’t normally drink on weekdays, but damn, it I just wanted to relax.  To set the scene you have to picture the mood and ambiance of true relaxation.  First I do not own a hot tub so a bath tub is as close as I can get to being truly warm on a cold night.  Second I am in the middle of a really good book by Steven King “On Writing” that I am really enjoying.  So my thought was that a really cold beer or two and a soak in the tub with a good book is just what the doctor ordered for a nice relaxing evening.  I also didn’t want to advertize to my lovely wife that I was going to have a beer in the middle of the week.  So being a bit sneaky and underhanded with the beer was defiantly called for.

            My wife loves to read in bed before going to sleep.  The bathroom is just on the other side of the wall from our bed.  Just after she goes to bed to read, I turn on the water to fill the tub.  I like the water to be as hot as I can stand with out actually burning anything vital.  I put some kind of crystal powder into the water while it is filling up, a friend gave it to my wife for Christmas, but she doesn’t take baths.  Now the bathroom is starting to smell like vanilla, which is much better than it did before I filled up the tub.  That was the whole idea of putting in the brown crystal powder.  Then I went to the freezer to retrieve a glass and two bottles of Bitch Creek.   It is not easy walking through the kitchen carrying a glass, two bottles, a bottle opener, and holding a towel around your waist with out making any distinctive beer bottle noises.  Try it sometime. I manage to get into the bath room and lock the door.  I am almost there, nirvana in a tub.

I open a beer and pour it into a glass, carefully placing the glass and the bottle on the edge of the tub.  The glass immediately begins sweating condensate, it’s perfectly cold, and the tub is perfectly hot.  I take off my towel to get into the tub, when IT happens. 

            The towel hooks on the beer bottle at the edge of the tub and literally flings it against the nice cold glass of foaming dark beer.  The glass goes crashing into the tub.  The bottle bounces off of the toilet and strikes the other bottle that I brought but didn’t open.  They both skitter around on the floor. The open one has the best effect since it still had about two ounces of foam shooting out of the top.  My first thought was to proclaim in a loud manor “Son or a B*$&H” but the words never come out. I could only grin a little at the circumstances.  As I start cleaning up the foam on the ground, the voice that I have been waiting for finally comes into play. “Are you all right?”  The game is over, the secret is out; she knows I have a beer in the bath.  I answer in the manliest manor I could.  “yea” 

            During the pause that can only be described as pregnant, I began to notice the smell.  Something is defiantly wrong with mixing 12 oz of dark hoppy beer in a scalding hot bath tub with soap and some vanilla smelling crystal powder.  All the hot water was gone, the gig was up, the beer was abused, and the smell was making me gag.  So it was time to start over.  As I left the bath room my lovely wife, who must have been laughing her self silly in her pillow, waited for some kind of explanation for the noise.  There she was in bed with her book, a cat in her lap, eyes sparkling, listening to me tell her of the magic bath towel beer flinging disaster.  “I hope you have some beer left, you’ve had a rough day” A more understanding wife I do not deserve.

            I went down stairs and drank my beer while watching the making of Dawn of the Dead.  Not nearly as good as reading Steven King in a hot bath, but not a bad way to end an evening.

-pf

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One thought on “Towel Creek

  1. Layman Pong says:

    Hold up:
    you’ve made an avocation of mixing up various noxious chemicals, and that smell bothered you?

    I think you were on the verge of a major discovery!

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