Rub a-Dub Dub

As the old cliché goes, opposites do attract. I should know. I married mine.

He is covered in tattoos, while I have only one modestly concealed tat. He rides motorcycles, while I continue to insist on never learning how to drive stick shift, let alone ride on two wheels. He thinks it is acceptable to talk on the phone while on the can, while I find it appalling... which leads me to wonder, has he ever called me from the bathroom?

Another of our differences is our shopping habits. Jon is impulsive, while I hit the shops with the mantra: "Do I need it or do I want it?" Don't get me wrong: he doesn't renew his wardrobe every month. However, he often gets things--BIG things--knowing that, worst case scenario, he can return/resell/exchange them if he changes his mind. It's not so much a spending issue, since he usually gets these items at a good price. Rather, it's our lack of space that gets me scratching my head when he comes home with his new finds. And where, do you suggest, will we store this?

Case-in-point, about two years ago, he bought a small motocross bike for a song. We had no room to store my car in the garage, let alone another bike! And when did he have the time to ride around on an undersized motor bike? Experiencing a case of buyer's remorse, Jon posted an ad online and sold it a few days later--for a profit, mind, you.

Jon's latest impulsive acquisition happened last week. As he was driving out of the drive-through, burger in hand, and past the hardware store, he slowed down when a couple of employees walked out the main door hauling a bathtub. Let me clarify. This was not any old tub. It was a massive, heart-shaped tub that neither of our bathrooms can contain within their current dimensions. Câline de bine.

"Hey, where are you going with that?" he asked the employees.
"This is a demo. It's going in the trash," one of them replied.
"Is there anything wrong with it?" he inquired.
"No," they said.
"Well, it's going in my truck!" concluded my husband.

This transaction was soon followed by a giddy phone call from Jon. "I got a tub!" he said.
"You got a what?" I asked, untangling the baby's fingers from my hair.
"A bathtub. I got a heart-shaped tub!"

And was it ever heart-shaped. My mom and I peeked out the window when he rolled up to the driveway that evening with the big shiny tub in the bed of the pickup truck. "Geez, he wasn't kidding. That tub is shaped like a heart," I muttered. "Where the hell are we going to put that?"

"Maybe you can put it in the backyard. You can put some fish in it," my mom replied. Thanks, Mom.

So, we found a place for the tub for now. It is standing on its side and leaning up against stuff. Unless we win the lottery, I'm afraid we won't be bathing in it any time soon. We do intend on renovating our bathrooms in the future, but that will mean replacing the old furnace with a leaner, greener one, installing new plumbing, knocking down our bedroom wall, and designing a walk-in shower. And until then, we have bills to pay. And the damn baby just keeps growing out of his clothes.

I promise to announce the day I take my first soak in the tub. In the meantime, if any of you are shopping for a classy heart-shaped bathtub, give my husband a shout. It could be yours if the price is right.

Oh, I should mention that while Jon loves his bath time, I admit I'm more of a shower person. Opposites do attract.