Val's Tasty Treats: Fresh, Steaming Hot Tub

Time for another taste of my work-in-progress.  It's an excerpt from The Free Hairwad Hot Tub. But we don't have time to address the hairwad part.

Several years ago, my husband, Hick, scored a free hot tub. Granted, it was a 1991 model, worth $3000 new. By Hick's account, it had somehow appreciated to $4600 after fifteen years of use. Hick was happier than Paula Deen after dinner with the Buttertons. He made plans to install his new treasure.

The boys tipped me off that something was rotten in the state of Hot Tub. "Dad is going to put the hot tub in the garage." Quite a change from the original plan of placing it under the deck, next to the above-ground pool. A location that would be optimal for stepping out the basement door in the winter, or hopping back and forth from the pool to the hot tub in the summer. A soothing view of forest, and frolicking woodland creatures, seemed to seal the deal on proper hot tub placement.

The garage is not attached to the house. Summertime temperatures in Outer Garagia regularly reach 120 degrees. During winter months, the trek to the hot tub would require a parka and snowshoes. Nature's vista? Gone. Replaced by two metal doors to the left, three shelves of hoarded booty on the right, and straight ahead, a bevy of fishing poles hanging on nails hammered into the two-by-four studs. Instead of fluffy clouds, or sparkling stars overhead, a patchwork of plywood sheets laid willy-nilly over the rafters would greet a hot-tubber who laid his head back to relax. And perhaps the added bonus of a cat tail twitching over the edge.

The five cats living in the rafters, earning their keep by knocking down Christmas ornaments, would no doubt welcome a hot tub. No more slinking to the pool for their chlorinated beverage. The beverage would come to them. They would gladly donate the hair off their backs for the privilege of a hot tub in their quarters.

When confronted about the flies in his hot tub ointment, Hick declared that he would build a wall to keep the cat hair out of the hot tub. A miracle wall which he should patent, to sell to my friends with house cats, who along with giving me both cookies and a candle caked with cat hair, have also been observed to harbor cat hair in the freezer. Hick would add garage windows for a view. Because apparently windows grow on trees, right beside the money. Hick explained that we would only be hot-tubbing in the winter, not the summer. Though he did not explain how a hot tub in a garage was different from a big triangular bathtub full of jets in the master bathroom. So there. No mention of where we would park the cars.

After a lively week of teeth-gnashing and brow-beating, Hick and I reached a compromise: the hot tub would be installed under the deck. The beauty of it was...he really thought that was a compromise.