My Favorite Thing About My First NYC Apartment
I can’t imagine how high my mom’s water bill must be when I come to town. It’s a free stay for me, but she really absorbs the cost. Of course, she’s happy to do it—or at least she never complains about it.
Don’t get me wrong, it isn’t my intention to use as much water as possible. It’s just I’ve been spoiled by the mystical New York gem of hot water included.
When I first moved into my apartment, I couldn’t imagine how this little perk could make such monumental waves. But oh, how wonderful it is! Turning on the tap while you do a quick task, which turns into 3-5 minutes of tasks. Then, returning to a lukewarm stream, unsure whether it has actually run out or is still warming up against chilly winter pipes.
But on the days when the temp hits just right, I step in and am transformed—kind of how Nicole Kidman feels when she visits an AMC. Enveloped in that comforting warmth, I experience something that is sensational, transformational, and whatever -tional word you can think of.
I stretch, I think out loud, I exfoliate, I scroll, I take calls (seriously), I watch TV, I sing, I talk to God, I breathe, I re-enact that one video of Drew Barrymore in the rain. Essentially, I change my life.
But it’s so much more than showers… It’s the baths too.
Allowing the multi-gallon drum to fill with hot water, the intoxicating aroma of bergamot orange epsom salt entangling itself with lavender bubble bath and filling the air.
And once I step in, who knows when I’ll be out.
Because I’ve set up my laptop to stream YouTube or a bad Amazon prime movie. I might even be grazing on the selection of aged cheeses and savory meats I’ve carefully curated for the evening. Perhaps I’m sulking over a failed situationship, singing along to Kelly Price’s “As We Lay” and Whitney Houston’s “Saving All My Love For You,” with my head resting on the cool porcelain, face wet from sweating in the scorching water.
It’s a bathroom fantasy straight out of an early 2000s romcom (well, without the rom…).
Wait… the water got cold.
Just playing—how could it when I’ve been emptying and refilling the tub, hitting the reset button on my weekly soak?
And why would I do something like that? Why would I “waste” water like this when the countdown clock in Bryant Park shows that climate change is going to take us out in less than seven years? Say it with me: Because the hot water is included.
In a city where everything feels like it comes with an extra fee, hot water being included is one of the small luxuries I take full advantage of. (That, and taking the elevator to the second floor when my legs are reallyyyy tired and the old men aren’t playing dominos in the lobby to judge me.)
And after only two years, I ponder how I ever lived without this 8th wonder of the world, dreading the possibility that one day, I may be without it again.