The Saga of the Blue Bathtub

Do you remember a few years back when I shared about my man’s infatuation with the big, blue tank of a bathtub he pulled from a home renovation job?

If not, you can read my amusing little write up about it HERE.

Side note: I wrote the above post just for amusement’s sake. But I’ve since had women tell me their husband’s do the exact same thing…that we have a common bond in our frustrations with the collection of “stuff” that appears on the yard. 🙂

I don’t love really hot things. But my man? He does!

As long as I’ve known him, he’s always been infatuated with things like burning hot baths, searing saunas, boiling hot springs and hot tubs that practically cook you in your skin.

Typical northern man!

So when he pulled an ancient blue bathtub and shower unit out of a bathroom he was renovating, he couldn’t help but have visions of one day transforming it into a homemade hot tub.

He even started collecting copper pipes and had some plan laid out in his mind.

Before we moved to the countryside, he parked the blue beast in our back yard, directly in line with the kitchen window so my eyes could marvel at it’s bigness and blueness every time I washed dishes. Or filled a water pitcher. Or washed my hands.

The man wanted a hot tub. A big, blue hot tub, apparently. Problem was, he really didn’t have the time to make those plans a reality.

So the giant blue beast sat in our backyard for 2 years, gracing me with it’s beautiful, sky blue presence while collecting water that turned into a breeding ground for mosquitoes.

When we finally moved to the countryside, I thought he would see the futility of moving the giant blue beast (especially since we only had our mini van for transporting both it and his copper pipes).

But wouldn’t you know it?

The saga of the blue bathtub continued!

Not only did the copper pipes and the bathtub make appearance on our new land, but the man parked the giant blue beast in our unfinished front yard, right where I could see it every time I worked at the kitchen sink and washed dishes. Or filled a water pitcher. Or washed my hands.

And it sat there for 2 years.

Finally, I asked him if we could move it. Four years of staring at it was too much, and I was afraid I was going to start having nightmares of being chased around the yard by a giant blue bathtub.

So move it, we did.

Secretly, I was hoping we’d permanently move it…to the dump!

But he was determined to keep it, so we lugged, tugged and pushed at (and secretly cursed) the massive thing, until we got it underneath the cedars and larch that grew in the northwest corner of our land.

And the saga of the blue bathtub continued.

It sat there, right in full view of anyone who drove to (or past) our place.

For 2 years it sat, collecting water that provided a breeding ground for mosquitoes.

Ehem!

Patience is a virtue I try to possess when it comes to my husband’s dreams and giant blue bathtubs.

But a woman can only take so much. And when I begged him to do some cleanup around the place last fall, he obliged.

Of course, I brought up the issue of the big blue beast.

If you’re determined to keep it, could we put it someplace where it can’t be seen?

Apparently he didn’t want to move it again. Because he decided it was time to get rid of his beloved blue bathtub.

I was delighted. Absolutely delighted!

And so, we flipped the thing upside down, then lugged, tugged and pushed at (and secretly cursed) the massive thing, until we managed to slide it up on top of our mini van yet again.

A few ratchet straps held it securely in place. And I started to breathe a sigh of relief as he drove away. But then I stopped.

Occasionally, my man wavers in his resolve when it comes to important life decisions, simply because he wants to be sure he’s made the best decision.

So I watched until he and the mini van were out of sight. Believe me, it took a while with that giant tub perched on top!

And then I breathed.

Folks, I’d put up with that ugly blue beast for more than SIX YEARS!

Six plus years. Two properties. And moved it 3 times (four, if you count the final one).

But I don’t mind so much.

Because any time my man needs proof of my love for him, I’m going to bring up the ugly blue bathtub.

Just remember the blue bathtub, babe. Remember the blue bathtub.

I put up with that old blue beast for 6+ years and beheld it’s ugliness every day as I worked in the kitchen washing dirty dishes, kneading bread dough, preserving food and preparing meals. I loved you enough to pointlessly tug and lug it around the property so you didn’t have to let go of your dream. I even helped you load it for the final haul to the dump!

Ahh, who am I kidding?! There are better ways to give him proof of my love. Like…maybe… perhaps one day when we’re old and have extra money to spend on luxuries, I’ll get him a real hot tub. With jets, bubbles and everything a man could ever want!

There’s just one thing I’ll stand firm on.

The hot tub can’t be blue!