While it's hard to have yourself a little self indulgent alone time in a small house home to seven people I've got to hand it to Tracey, she tries.
"I'm having a bath," Tracey announced the other night.
She was serious about it too. I could tell because the Body Shop smelly stuff came out of the cupboard. And when I walked through the lounge room I noticed there were rings in the dust where some scented candles used to stand.
Poor Tracey needed a good soaking after being crook all week with all the kids home. Naturally, I decided I could earn some brownie points on the back of this.
"Do you want a cup of tea in there," I said through the door.
"No," she said. She sounded less than relaxed.
"How about a Southern?"
"Don't worry about it," she said, and I could definitely sense a resigned tone. "I'm getting out."
"Don't get out!" I said. "Relax. I've got control of things out here."
No I didn't. For starters I assumed all the kids were asleep in bed - right up until the toilet flushed and one of our youngest daughters opened the bathroom door. I'm sworn to secrecy over which one it was.
"Night, Daddy," she said, and shuffled off to bed.
I stuck my head in the door and was rewarded with a lovely view of my wife getting out of the bath and reaching for a towel. I tried not to look too pleased with my timing.
"She sort of killed the mood," said my wife, indicating the direction of the bedrooms.
"But she's gone now," I said, hoping to be rewarded with an equally lovely view of my wife removing the towel she'd just wrapped around herself. "You can get back to clearing your mind." No such luck.
"Not after what I just had to look at."
"I guess that's the problem with having a toilet in the bathroom," I said.
"Oh, it's not that," explained Tracey, "so much as the fact she was worried her hair was going to catch on fire from the candles on the toilet, so she straddled the loo while facing the wall."
"I don't suppose she was tinkling?" I asked, getting an idea of why the mood had suddenly evaporated.
"A number two," confirmed Tracey.
Apparently there's not a bath salt strong enough to counter the awkward view my wife had across the bathroom.
I'm not sure my hysterical laughter helped relax my wife anymore than my daughter did, but I sure felt all the better for it.
Thanks, honey x
