My "Love Wins" print would be perfect in this room.
Love Wins by Jonathan Capuano, honoring same-sex marriage
I'd have clever speakers installed in the ceiling, so subtle they're barely noticeable. But the soothing sounds of Morning Edition calmly enlightening my day? That I would notice.
Starting the day in this kind of bathroom feels like it would be full of clarity, sound decisions, and gung ho-ness. Maybe I'd find time to eat breakfast and read the paper before leaving, rather than on the go. Maybe I'd be well-put-together when I arrived at work. Maybe I'd even arrive at work on time.
See, in the real world, I inevitably wake up late and in desperate need of coffee. There's no time to make a great breakfast. I don't remember the last time I used my hair dryer. And I get my NPR through my circa 1996 clock radio in the next room, blaring at full volume, because it seems to be the only room or radio in our apartment that can actually pick up the local station signal.
And my bathtub?
It's been used once in two years, and is currently a repository of randomness: clothes that were resting on the edge and then pushed in by our cats, a couple of magazines, some quintessential pieces from my trashy lingerie shower, Kate's wedding invitation (I never throw away letterpress)... you know, the usual. And I hate baths, to be honest. They take too long, and I get too hot.
But if I could have that red bathtub anyway, just to look at and make me happy, and I promised to be adult enough not to fill it with junk, could I have it then?
No, still not adult enough?