Thoughts thrown out with the bathwater

The bathtub in my apartment, is small...too small really for me to comfortable take a bath. But I love baths, and take them often despite the inadequacy presented to me by the woes of being a downtown renter.

I have always found being surrounded by warm water very conducive to thought...whether I am in need of making a decision or just waiting for the next big idea to come to me. Today as I was nearing the end of my bath, my fingers and toes resembling little flesh coloured raisins, a myriad of random things bounced around inside my head, some good, some bad, some completely ridiculous, and some so irrelevant they are hardly worth analyzing...I slid as far down in the tiny tub as I could, held my breath, and put my head under the water...and just let the water drain away, taking any thoughts it cared to with it...

A strange sense of self can be gained if you remain in the bath tub while the warm water pours away down the drain. It grants a special kind of self awareness that I have not been able to replicate anywhere else . . . perhaps walking nude in the warm summer rain would have a similar effect, but living in the core of the city, I have not been afforded such opportunities . . . as I layed there, I could feel my lungs begin to burn in want for another breath to replace the held one growning stale, and then the water level dropped just under my nose, allowing me to replenish my air supply. The sensation of the water level slowly abating down my face stored me to open my eyes which had been shut against the water, and I could see delicate shadows cast around the small bathroom by the low end light fixture above the mirror consisting of 4 exposed clear bulbs in a polished brass band - three layers (one of the bulbs is burned out) of shadows created by a plethora of items around the room - a feast for the eyes viewed from an unusual angle.

When the water cleared my ears with a gentle pop, first in the right ear and followed by the next gentle sweep of water down by the left. The room that only moments before had seemed quiets and peaceful with the only sound emitting from the steady drip of the bathtub faucet, now seemed unreasinalbly loud. The gurgle of the drain and the water rushing down the walls below making its 10 floor journey to the sewers.

As more water emptied from the tub, my skin became intimately aware of the temperature difference between the water and the air in the bathroom; first discovered by my nipples as they emerged from the water, but as more water drained, small bumps began to form on the surface of my skin, often referred to as resembling that of a goose whose feathers have been plucked . . . what causes skin to react this way to cold anyway? I became more aware of the hard enameled steel under and around me as the warmth of the water was replaced by the coolness of air drying skin. I could feel the pressure odd bone pressing skin against the steel along my back and neck, under my hips, and the points where my shoulders touched the sides. The last of the water drained away, save for a tiny pool around my head trapped by my shoulders, and I lay there listening to the dripping faucet and the last dribbles of bathwater running throught the pipes until my skin was nearly dry and I had stopped shivering. . . .