Setting
Fantasy: My bathroom is four thousand square feet and bursting with natural sunlight. It overlooks my personal botanical garden, overflowing with exotic, lush plants. My vintage clawfoot bathtub is pristine and pairs perfectly with the art deco aesthetic of my entire high-rise penthouse, just as Nate Berkus planned when he designed it.
Reality: My studio apartment overlooks a crime scene, and I need to clean two years’ worth of hair and nail clippings out of the drain before I can get in the tub. A cockroach scuttles by as I yank out a clog the size of a yeti.
Slipping into the bath
Fantasy: I slip out of my perfectly fitting Hermes yachting robe from behind a vintage silk screen. As it falls from my soft, hairless body, the robe immediately flies to the end of my bed and folds itself into a neat square. The bathwater is a soothing temperature, and I slide into it as gracefully as an oiled baby seal, not displacing a single drop. I release a small, satisfied sigh.