
I don’t normally tackle controversial issues, but today I’m going out on a limb.
Baths are better than showers.
I don’t care what my husband, Peter, or my mother and father have to say on the subject. I don’t care about those people who take samples of bathwater and look at them under microscopes and tell you that you are bathing in miniscule amounts of dirt and microorganisms. They are all wrong, and I will tell you how I know.
I looked at my ankles.
When Peter and I stay in Mexico, I do not have a bathtub. I will admit, when the sun is shining and we are eating outside in February surrounded by the friendly staff at our hotel, I am not exactly hankering to get back to the gloom of the Midwest. I can go for days without being under a cloud, wearing shorts and sandals and eating fresh avocados every day. If it wasn’t for missing my family, I’d be happy just to stay, and I can’t honestly say I would miss much—except for my bathtub.
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