I am no longer covered in paint

And it is wonderful.  But as I sat in my bubble bath, it occurred to me that, for as long as I have been living on my own, I have not had a bath that was not a bubble bath.

I remember, as a child, that bubble baths were kind of special - you didn't get bubbles every time you had a bath, so it was a big deal.  My sister and I would spend forever in the bathtub when we had bubbles.  We had a bag full of bath toys that would get pulled out, and there were tons of games that we would make up.  One of us always ended up with a bubble beard, and bubble hairdos were all the rage.

Rubbing soap over the bubbles that stuck to my legs made a super-rich soapy foam that was fun to play with, too; much more dense than the regular bubbles.  We always stayed in the bath until the very last bubble had popped, even though our fingers and toes were pruney and the water had turned cold.  You simply couldn't waste a single, precious bubble.

I still do some of that - I don't have a bag of bath toys anymore, but my imagination always runs wild when I'm in the bath.  I have some of my best ideas lying there with my eyes closed, the sound of bubbles bursting in the background.  I don't usually do the bubble beard anymore, but every once in a while, it makes an appearance.  And I always wait until the bubbles are gone before I get out, even though my fingers and toes are all pruney.

Maybe it's because I rarely take baths now, that I only have bubble baths.  I think that's why they're still special.