I felt a little down, so I took a bath. I always forget that baths force me to lie still, staring at my thighs for a good long time, making lists of adjectives starting with “G,” none of which are “gorgeous” or “glorious.” “Gory” was not one of them either, for which I suppose I should have been grateful.

I figured if I was going to waste my day souping around in the tub, I might as well make my skin happy, so I loofahed the hell out of my ass. Not easy – you have to roll to one side, or kneel. Rolling over means I look like I’m posing, trying to seduce someone from my gritty grungy tub. And kneeling just doesn’t seem proper without an enema bag and a camcorder handy.