A month or so ago I thought, "I think I am possibly the only person in the world who has never owned a Dr Scholls foot bath and then given it away to Value Village or a garage sale. I think I'd like to try one to combat the disgusting sandpaper feet syndrome that occurs every winter."
Knowing full well that this is just a fleeting desire that I am sure will end up at Value Village before long, I did not put it on my Christmas or Birthday wish lists. I feel so guilty discarding something I receive as a gift. And be damned if I'd re-gift such an item.
While heading to the picture frame aisle at Wal-mart the other day, I had to pass the "As Seen On TV" display. Of course everything was 75% off. There on the display was a stack of Dr Scholl's foot Baths - with heat AND bubble action therapy for 9 bucks. Well, if ever there's time to try something you know you aren't going to like for long, this is it.
Yesterday afternoon I was home alone so I chose my massage attachments, placed the mini-pool under my computer desk and filled it with hot water. Too hot. It took a few minutes to manage to keep my feet submersed. I reached my big toe up to press the bubble action button. Gurgle gurgle splash splash bubble. Uh-oh. Now I have to go pee.
Being that this was my virgin foot bath experience, I wasn't wise enough to think about going to the bathroom first. Or bringing a towel. Now here I am 3 rooms away from the bathroom, with wet feet, desperately needing to pee. I slip slide my way to the potty and do my business. I grab a towel from the cabinet, throw it on the floor, step on it with both feet and sort of skate my way back to my computer desk, hoping the towel will sop up all the water I've strewn about.
I sit at my foot spa for 15 minutes or so while I do some facebooking until my feet are like prunes with a coating of pericarp (that's the white crap under an orange peel.) I grabbed my light coloured towel (chosen because I knew I'd be sloughing off skin and didn't want to actually see it) to dry my feet. My light coloured towel was now sort of blackish where I had dragged it across an obviously disgustingly dirty kitchen floor. But it was the only towel I had. I dried my feet and picked up my spa to carry it to the bathroom to empty. It was now resembling a full bed pan as it sloshed around and threatened to splash overboard as I carefully maneuvered it to the bathroom.
So yeah, once again I was glad that I hadn't asked for it as a present cuz it'll be residing on the shelves of Value Village more sooner than later.
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