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B is for Bubbles

When I was a kid, things were pretty easy. It was the 70s. Things weren’t as unhygienic as they appeared on Stranger Things (seriously; everything looks like it needs a good washing on that show), and while I avoided taking a bath when my mom told me I needed to be clean (fine; maybe some things were unhygienic), I loved to take bubble baths with Mr. Bubble because that made bath time fun.

Rest assured, I learned to appreciate hygiene as I entered double-digits.

Fast forward to adulthood; after a good year or so of dorm life (thanks to the USAF), I got married, moved into an apartment and had a bathtub of my very own. After all of that dorm life, I was ready for Calgon to take me away. But as I stood in the grocery store and looked over the bubble bath offerings, nothing looked or smelled or felt just right. Until I picked up that pink bottle and took a sniff for old times’ sake… and that’s the bottle that landed in my cart.

Wednesday, August 24, 2016


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