I was home by myself, a rare pleasure in the three weeks we’ve lived in the new house. My boyfriend Preppy has an impressive collection of skin and bath products, so I decided to put them to use and break in the bathtub with a nice long soak.I found a big bottle of oil on Preppy’s shelf in the closet, identified as “Soothing Skin Care”. This sounded like exactly what the doctor had ordered, so I added a splash to the steaming water. Then, following my philosophy that more is always more, I added two, three, maybe eleven more splashes, and then I climbed in.
I was ready for some proper soothing. I love being soothed.
The first thing I noticed was the smell. It was not a soothing smell. You know the smell of the stuff the school janitor would pour on the floor when one of the kids threw up back in third grade? That was the smell.
And the itchy, burning sensation on my legs and feet? That was alarming. And again, not the least bit soothing.
I immediately reached over and drained the tub. Then I tried to stand up, but the oil slick that had been resting on top of the water now covered me and the porcelain. So I was flopping around in there like a fish in a barrel, grasping at anything I could for support, but failing so miserably.
I managed to free myself from the tub by swinging one leg over the side and crawling onto the floor. But even after taking a very thorough shower, I was still greasy and stinky. Plus I felt really guilty about wasting all that water, what with the city running out and all, especially since I’d recently convinced Preppy that we should shower together more in order to conserve. It was another one of my fumbling attempts at seduction, but he played along.
When Preppy came home a few hours later, he stopped mid-greeting and sniffed the air.
“What’s that smell?” he asked.
“I used some of your bath oil, but it smelled awful. Plus, I think I’m allergic. Or it’s possible I used a little too much.”
He looked perplexed.
“Bath oil? I don’t own bath oil.”
“Sure you do. Soothing Skin Care. It was in the closet.”
After I told him this, I knew he wanted to explain something to me. As soon as he could catch a breath from laughing.
“Darlin’,” he said, wiping away tears. “That was concentrated insect repellant. We used to put it in a spray bottle when we went to Phish concerts.”
Well. That explained a few things.
When we bought the house, Preppy and I merged all of our possessions for the first time. There’s little dangers inherent in having a sudden influx of someone else’s stuff in your life. You’re forced to reconsider what’s still “Yours”, and what is now “Ours”. The toothpaste is shared, but we each have our own shampoo. Food is shared, but beer and vodka are more sensitive ground when supplies are low. Can I look at one of his photo albums when he’s not home, or would that feel like an invasion? Can we borrow each other’s clothes without asking, or would he prefer not to see me walk in the door wearing his Crazy Stripe sweater?
It’s impossible to address all of these things beforehand.
The first thing I noticed was the smell. It was not a soothing smell. You know the smell of the stuff the school janitor would pour on the floor when one of the kids threw up back in third grade? That was the smell.
And the itchy, burning sensation on my legs and feet? That was alarming. And again, not the least bit soothing.
I immediately reached over and drained the tub. Then I tried to stand up, but the oil slick that had been resting on top of the water now covered me and the porcelain. So I was flopping around in there like a fish in a barrel, grasping at anything I could for support, but failing so miserably.
I managed to free myself from the tub by swinging one leg over the side and crawling onto the floor. But even after taking a very thorough shower, I was still greasy and stinky. Plus I felt really guilty about wasting all that water, what with the city running out and all, especially since I’d recently convinced Preppy that we should shower together more in order to conserve. It was another one of my fumbling attempts at seduction, but he played along.
When Preppy came home a few hours later, he stopped mid-greeting and sniffed the air.
“What’s that smell?” he asked.
“I used some of your bath oil, but it smelled awful. Plus, I think I’m allergic. Or it’s possible I used a little too much.”
He looked perplexed.
“Bath oil? I don’t own bath oil.”
“Sure you do. Soothing Skin Care. It was in the closet.”
After I told him this, I knew he wanted to explain something to me. As soon as he could catch a breath from laughing.
“Darlin’,” he said, wiping away tears. “That was concentrated insect repellant. We used to put it in a spray bottle when we went to Phish concerts.”
Well. That explained a few things.
When we bought the house, Preppy and I merged all of our possessions for the first time. There’s little dangers inherent in having a sudden influx of someone else’s stuff in your life. You’re forced to reconsider what’s still “Yours”, and what is now “Ours”. The toothpaste is shared, but we each have our own shampoo. Food is shared, but beer and vodka are more sensitive ground when supplies are low. Can I look at one of his photo albums when he’s not home, or would that feel like an invasion? Can we borrow each other’s clothes without asking, or would he prefer not to see me walk in the door wearing his Crazy Stripe sweater?
It’s impossible to address all of these things beforehand.
One would go mad with the minutia, plus in my case anything I was told not to open or touch would become an object of complete obsession, because it’s this THING in my HOUSE that I CAN’T OPEN OR TOUCH.
This might just be a trial and error scenario. Sometimes the only way to determine the location of a boundary is by stepping just beyond it. For example: Tonight I learned that I should probably not use any of Preppy’s bathroom stuff which he has not properly identified and cleared for my use. It’s the best way to avoid spending another afternoon sliding around naked in hippie bug spray.
This might just be a trial and error scenario. Sometimes the only way to determine the location of a boundary is by stepping just beyond it. For example: Tonight I learned that I should probably not use any of Preppy’s bathroom stuff which he has not properly identified and cleared for my use. It’s the best way to avoid spending another afternoon sliding around naked in hippie bug spray.
