Some Like It Hot
I’m not sure when that vague wisp of an idea began to seem do-able. What I can tell you with certainty though is that once “vague wisp” grows to “might be do-able” and then morphs into “desire”, I’ll figure out a way to make it happen.
Care and feeding of an idea is important. Some of my best ideas never grow past the embryo stage. Getting outside information is important. Some of my best ideas won’t work. It helps to know that before I sink money, time, blood, sweat and tears into a project. I’ve approached ideas both informed and blindly. Informed works better.
I began with looking at my bank balance. If I eat beans and tortillas for six months, I might be able to do this. The dollar to peso exchange rate is good.
I walked around my yard and envisioned a hot tub under the patio roof. Nix. In the back corner patio? Nix. On the west side? Nix. On the south side, snugged between the tall wall and the half wall. Eureka! I could see my beautiful tile tub, surrounded by lush plants to shield me from prying eyes on the driveway.
Next I talked with Josue. He’s my contractor. “Josue, I’m thinking about a hot tub. Not this year; I can’t afford it.” “Good,” he said back. “I don’t have time to do it this year.”
But he didn’t say I couldn’t. Two days later Josue walked over to see me. “I’ve done some research. Where do you think you’d like to put it?” I pointed to the south wall. “Good.” He then gave me a possible cost, much less than a similar tub in the US. However . . .
Once I revived consciousness and got past my heart palpitations, I said, “Beans and tortillas for a year.”
Did I mention “justification”? Give me time and I can justify anything. It is a special skill at which I excel. I love soaking in hot water. When I lived in Missoula, once upon a lifetime, I had easy access to several area hot springs. When I lived in Poulsbo, Washington, I had a hot-tub on the back bedroom deck of a three-story house, up in the cedar trees.
Unlike most people who buy a hot-tub and seldom use it, I climbed down into the steaming waters every night. One of my favorite memories is a dark night of pelting rain, after a play rehearsal, when, umbrellas overhead, Joyce, Billie and I soaked and laughed and told stories for an hour.
When I moved back to Harlem, I sorely missed my soaks. So I bought a horse watering trough and installed it in my bathroom in place of a tub. The price was right and it worked. I could sit in hot water up to my neck.
For me, hot water is pain therapy. It is also pleasure therapy. Doesn’t get much better than that.
Next I consulted my son and my daughter. “Great idea, Mom,” they each responded.
I shared my idea with a few friends. Their eyes lit up and I could mentally see them locating beach towels and mixing pitchers of margaritas. Oh, no. Call me selfish, but I don’t want to host the social center on the Rancho. Therapy, remember, therapy.
My son told me about a hotel where he and his wife stayed in Vallarta. Out on the deck, the hotel built a two-person tub that they filled and heated only when it was to be used. A staff person told my son that it was easier to clean, cheaper to maintain than a regular hot-tub. And it didn’t require chemicals.
So here’s my idea. Build a concrete surround, line the inside and outside with decorative Mexican tile. At each end of the rectangular tub, build in a bench seat. Add a pressure pump to the drain so the drained water can be re-used on the lawn. No chemicals. Cheaper to build. Beans and tortillas for three months.
Hot diggity-dog. A two-person therapy tub to be shared by invitation only. Tomorrow I’ll ask Josue if he can make this work.
HDN: Looking out my back door
November 9, 2017