She is cold at times, but can bring me such warmth and comfort. She is at first an empty vessel, but once filled is a sight of beauty and anticipation. I dream of her when I am away from her, and I am so very pleased when I use her. She is my muse, she is beautiful, she is my bathtub.

Yes, my bathtub. I freaking love that thing. I have a bath almost everyday, (The Cheerleader I Live With also fully supports me in this particular endeavor), and more often than not I find inspiration there (I think The Cheerleader I Live With also finds inspiration when I take a bath, but that’s a whole other post on an entirely different website).

Last night as I was “relaxing” in the bath (read: throwing a tennis ball down the stairs for my dog who does not understand the concept of “alone time”, and who has an incredibly irritating habit of kicking a closed door repeatedly), I was struck with an idea. I have been wondering just how to create an opening scene for The Book, and all of a sudden it hit me like a ton of bubbles.

I hopped out of the bath, threw on some warm jammies, then went to sit at my new desk. There, for the next 3 hours, I typed away frantically, trying to catch all the words in my head and put them down on paper before they disappeared. I forgot to feed the dogs, I forgot to feed The Cheerleader I Live With, and I forgot to turn off the electric blanket that I had wrapped around me. I just wrote.

However, as The Cheerleader I Live With attempted to stumble to the kitchen through his starvation, he tripped over one of our emaciated, sobbing dogs and fell to the floor. Fearful that he had shattered bones through his non-existent layer of protective fat, I jumped up to offer him assistance. Unfortunately my legs had suffered third-degree burns under the electric blanket, and all that was left were stumps of bone and charred skin. Looking like Teriyaki chicken wings, my legs became instant tasty morsels to the dogs, and had they had any energy at all, I would not have been able to out-run their ravenous hunger. As it was, I made it to the kitchen, and left The Cheerleader I Live With to his own devices as the dogs bore down on his salt-and-pepper-ribs looking body. It was Pub Night for Jenn and Luna, apparently.

Aaaaaaaaaanyway, kibble was dished out, salad was made, and veggie wieners were cut up into macaroni and cheese, and I think I created a decent opening to The Book. It needs work, but I think I’ve got something to start with. I sent it off to Momx7 to see what she thinks (she being a cut-throat editor and all), so maybe I’ll get some advice. Maybe not. Maybe she’ll tell me to scrap it all and start again. I can handle that.

As long as I still have a bathtub.

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