Bathtub dreams

There's a bathtub that sits in my great-grandmother MawMaw's garage. MawMaw went on to glory 16 years ago, and her house still stands just as it has for 70+ years.

PawPaw and his brother built this house themselves in the 1930s. Grandad was raised here. I love this little house so much that it deserves a post to itself. I'll get on that one of these days; back to the bathtub.

Here she is. A little worse for the wear, yes, but that adds to her charm. I think of this tub often. It tugs at my heartstrings to think of this pretty thing just sitting there, neglected and unused. My mind wanders to the decades of babies bathed in it, the hands that scrubbed it clean over the years...

 I imagine the cost of having the tub refinished would be more exorbitant than this schoolteacher can afford, and I don't know if I'd ever consider it clean enough for my behiney to touch. I have a thing about clean tubs and my behiney. I won't elaborate; you're welcome.

My visions for the tub lean more toward this...

{photo source}

Oh, the dreams I have for this tub. Someday, I want a yard with room for a garden. I see this tub in a spot of honor, filled with lovely blooms and frilly green leaves. Alas, there are a few kinks in my scheme:

1) I have no yard.

2) The tub surely weighs eleven million pounds.

3) I live in a tiny little nest with absolutely no room to store a tub that weighs eleven million pounds.

4) Everybody in my family claims they're unwilling to move and store the tub that weighs eleven million pounds. Clearly, they're not thinking about how cute it will look in my backyard filled with summer blossoms. Someday. You know, when I have a yard. 'Cuz I currently don't. Sob.

Until then, I settle for driving by to visit the tub every once in a while. She's almost as excited about her future purpose as I am. One of these days, I'll get myself a yard and give her new life. One of these days.