About Amanda

I’m a disgruntled Metro-North commuter by morning, real estate journalist by day, insomniac by night, and cancer butt-kicker for life.

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Splish, Splash, I Love Taking A Bath

A Writer’s Book of Days (01/06) – Write About Bathing

512 square feet. A California king bed. A separate seating area. One person.

And that’s just a hotel room (I think there are plenty of Manhattan apartments smaller than that). Yet  it’s the one I booked for my upcoming trip to Las Vegas. I certainly could have gone for the twin bed, but that room (more appropriate and affordable for a woman traveling on her own) didn’t have a Jacuzzi. That bubbly tub of wonder stole my credit card number the first time I laid eyes on the room description.

I love baths. A hotel’s glass shower stall would not do.

It’s not a luxury I have at home. I do have a tub, but a small one. Not exactly one you can sink into without splashing bubbles and water all over the place. My arm, which doesn’t fit, has to hang cold and limply over the side. When I buy my own house, you bet it’s going to be one of those claw-foot giants.

So hotels will just have to do for now. Accommodations get bonus points (or that extra star on Yelp.com) if they have deep soak tubs like the Westin Diplomat in Hollywood, Fla., The Jefferson Hotel in DC, and The Wynn in Sin City. There’s nothing like covering your entire body with a warm, giant quilt of bubbles. It’s akin to putting the first flannels on your bed for winter.

But a Jacuzzi? Movin’ on up, girl.

I never stayed in a hotel room with a Jacuzzi before. In fact, if you asked me which ones have them, I can only think of seedy themed motels with giant heart-shaped or champagne glass tubs. (I presume the reputation of this Vegas casino-hotel means it will be properly cleaned and disinfected.)

You can be sure I’ll be in that tub at least once or twice, and that my toiletry bag (three-ounce bottles and under, since I only pack a carry-on) will have more bubbles, powders, and bath oil than cosmetics. I particularly like those scented fizzing balls with shea butter. That little complimentary bottle of hotel body wash doesn’t have the same effect.

So if you don’t find me at the roulette table, you know where to find me.

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