Ghetto or Matlock?

I am taking a poll and your opinion is very important to me.


Last night after a long day at an amusement park with all of our clients and their children, I really really wanted to take a hot bath. You might even say I needed it because it was way hotter than I anticipated it would get at 7:00 in the morning and so I proceeded to dress for the arctic tundra in a down puffy vest, jeans, and wool socks. Thank you, Dallas Raines.  So when I finally got home, I headed straight for the bathroom and started running the water. I dumped in my prized Lush products and proceeded to grab a book, a lighter for my candles, and throw all of my sweaty clothes in the laundry.  I came back to the bathroom five minutes later expecting to see a full, frothy, steamy tub of bubbles. So you can understand that I was more than disappointed to see a nearly empty bathtub. I kept staring at the water thinking somehow it would start to rise; however, in the two minutes I stood there absolutely nothing happened. Or should I say, nothing happened other than my beloved Lush products disappeared down the drain and the water level did not break the .4cm mark.

Curious, I got into the tub thinking that maybe my body would somehow displace the puddle of water and somehow make it feel 10 inches deep. (That's what she said?!) I flipped the lever back and forth that controls the drain and finally had the revelation that when my landlord had my pipes fixed yet again the week before, my landlord's genius brother-turned-handyman must have broken my drain stopper. I sank back against the cold porcelain in sheer disgust and exhaustion, fighting the realization that my bath was just not going to happen. Just as my back hit the ice cold of defeat, my heel brushed against the drain and I had the awesome epiphany that my heel was the exact same size as the diameter of my drain. You see where this story is going at this point and so now you are thinking, does she stick her foot in? Or does she have some pride, get out, and place a phone call to her landlord?

Like I said, I was tired, sweaty, and now freezing from the cold porcelain of my tub. My book was in hand and the candles were lit and I am not going to lie. I stuck my foot in.

A couple chapters later, I was sufficiently relaxed and content with the fact that I had made good use of my very expensive bath products, which were a gift from a very dear friend. (Thank you, Ragon!) I like to think this was more of a deft maneuver, at most bordering on "boughetto," which is a term coined by my favorite Atlanta Housewife and former member of Xscape, and means a combination of bourgeois (expensive Lush products) and ghetto (my foot is in the drain). But the real question is....what do you think?