Bathtime Stories

By Hayes Spencer


Here we stand.  Well sit.  I'm taking a bath with 19,000 candles, feeling like I'm royalty.  

*Hair flip*

Did I post an Instagram photo yet of my bougie life?   No?

"Fight Song" by Rachel Platten comes on.  I think to myself, “Fight song.  Hmm. I should fight? Should I fight for someone else?  Have I fought for myself lately?  What does that look like? What do I want? When was the last time I thought about what I wanted? Oh, right. 1998. Perfect.”

Life is a funny guy.  Just when you think you have all your marbles in your hand, you trip, fall, break out a tooth, loose your weave, drop your glass of wine, and there you have it; you are right back where you started from.  Marble-less.  Please hold back all male genitalia jokes for this one moment.  But seriously, when was the last time you stopped for one moment to see if you actually gave yourself and your thoughts consideration?

"Leave Your Lover" by Sam smith comes on. Completely changed my mood.  I wonder who he wrote this song for?  I wonder if that guy knows he fucked up bad?  I'm sure it was for the better.  I mean, I think Sammy... Can I call him Sammy? Is he doing good?  I would assume yes.  He let all his emotions out, so he should be feeling pretty good, right?

"Stay with Me" comes on.  Oh, so many memories.  I think I have cried to this song more times than I have sung to it.  But who am I kidding, no one wants to hear my voice.   I probably shatter glass just thinking about singing.  

Back to the "life" subject.  Just as I start to contemplate my life and what I want, my boss texts me orders to fill tomorrow.  It never ends.  Can I get a moment of free time?  I think that's been my problem lately.  I don't have a free space in my life.  I don't have a house situation that allows me a free moment to myself. I work with a bunch of people who can't give me a moment of free time.   After I spend weeks dodging calls from my parents, and wondering if my boyfriend thinks I'm dead, I am  basically left with about 8 minutes of free time a day.  Perfect, 8 minutes.  What can I do in that time?  Well I could check emails?  Nope. Respond to texts? Nope.  Sit and breathe?  Hmm that's a good thought.  

I recently had a doctors appointment to refill my Xanax prescription.  I know, me? Anxiety? Shocker.  The doctor goes "so on a 1-10, what's your stress and anxiety level on a typical day?”

"Anxiety?  What do you mean by anxiety?"

Needless to say, I had my Xanax refilled about 42 seconds after that conversation. And here we are. I have drinkin.... Drankin? Is that a word?