It seems like plenty of people have a fairly healthy fear of drains in tubs, pools, me of course the great and terrible “glory hole” spillways, but I never developed that fear.
I was thinking about it a couple days ago, because when I was a tiny baby I named a bar of soap “Baby Brite” (I was way into Rainbow Brite as a child) and would play with her at bath time.
She grew smaller over time, as bars of soap do, and one day she slipped out of my hands and down the drain. I was devastated, and my mom had to try and console her toddler with talk of which things are lasting and which are temporary (sorry mom, you were so young and nothing could have prepared you for the depths and heights of my emotions).
And then, tonight, damned if the remnants of my LUSH Sea Vegetable didn’t join their sister Baby B and break my heart all over again.
I have got to stop getting attached to soap.
Fibromyangela 