When it’s This Much Below

This is my bathtub.

Actually, this is a photo of me taking a bath. A photo taken by me of me in the bath. Pretend my legs don’t look like a couple of manatees attempting, unsuccessfully, to mate in fresh water. Manatees, you know, are marine mammals, and they get Horribly Confused when you try to get them to do anything in fresh water. Like serve drinks. Just doesn’t work. It’s like you have to hit the bastards with a frigging outboard motor before they’ll do *anything* for you. Dumbest. Mammals. Evar.

Anyhow. Pretend my thighs do not look like a couple of manatees trying to mate in fresh water.

Also, it occurs to me that the water in this photo looks strangely brackish. While it would be an interesting tourist attraction for me to keep, say, Old Ones in my bathtub, the international licensing arrangements are a farging nightmare. And that’s *after* you get them out of quarantine. Doesn’t even include the slate of shots you need.

A friend I’ve never met before asked if my tub is outside.

If you’re familiar with Chez Relaxo, you’ll know the truth. And if you’re not familiar with Chez Relaxo, you won’t. I could tell you the truth, but that would be very out of character. Suffice it to say that the shower curtains ensure modesty. Even more than they did when they were new, since our water is somewhat on the hard side, don’t you know.

Also, I have a snorkelling mask in the shape of a penguin.

This is the post about my bathtub (with reference to penguins).