Some people have great furniture. Others have wonderful patios.
I have the world’s greatest tub. In fact, I have two. I have the world’s greatest tub and the first runner-up.
The first runner-up is in my kids’ bathroom on the second floor. It is a claw foot, cast iron tub. For those who don’t know me, I am a 5’9″ mildly overweight Viking, and it fits all of me. I can put my legs and my body up to my shoulders underwater all at the same time.
In my old house, I had to choose. To dunk my head, I had to stick my legs up the wall above the spigot. And the tub itself held about four gallons of water, so the hot water to soak time ratio was pathetic. It was nice for about 3 minutes. It wasn’t so much fun to bathe as it was an exercise in logistics that, upon doing, I remembered why I didn’t.
If there is a downside to the first runner-up tub, it is that, if I ever feel differently about it, I am out of luck. It weighs roughly one million pounds. I can’t even imagine how they ever got it up to that room in the first place. I know the event took place sometime in the 40’s or 50’s. However, this is an old farm house with stairs that have only slightly more of a slant than a ladder and, possibly, the same width. Honestly, I don’t need to know. I am just grateful for whatever Herculean effort all those years ago made my upstairs tub a reality today.
And that’s just the runner-up. Right? I know.
The grand prize winner, walking away with the really tall crown and the trophy that is too tall to fit inside the car, is the Big Red Tub.
The Big Red Tub is a whirlpool tub and, like the claw foot runner-up, holds so much water that I feel a little bad using it. Not bad enough to stop, but still … I have never outlasted the hot water in this tub, and I have tried. And when I say red, I mean manly-midlife-crisis-Corvette red. Every time I get into it, I feel like I should take it out for a drive.
Again, since we are evaluating the world’s greatest tubs objectively, it does have a downside. The little knobby thing that makes the jets turn on is not within reach of the tub’s occupant. Due to this, there are two choices: start the tub and hop in or call for help. Either way gets the job done. It’s a bit tricky to turn the knob because the “knob” is actually missing – it is just a piece of metal jutting out of the electrical box. But letting small obstacles like missing knobs stop me would be like unexpectedly being invited to dinner with Prince and refusing because I had a dentist appointment. It’s just not going to happen. Last night, needle nosed pliers did the trick, but I think I am going to the hardware store later to look at my options.
So, if you turn on TLC someday and see a promo for an upcoming show on the world’s greatest tubs, you may want to record it. If you don’t, you are going to miss what might be your only opportunity ever to see a slightly oversized Viking singing eighty’s tunes, her voice barely audible over the roar of the jets coming from the Big Red Tub. If you can ignore the vise-grips hanging from the knob jutting out of the wall, you also might just be taking advantage of one of your only opportunities ever to see perfect bliss.
“You need a love, that’s gonna la-aa-aast ….”
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