The wet office

In the photo above, you can see my new office.

All my life, I have thrived on being surrounded by warm water. I can lie in the bath for hours, until my skin threatens to slide off my bones in wrinkles. My need for a bathtub has always been so great that I managed to create one wherever there wasn't any: a plastic sitting tub wedged into the shower of my student house, an inflatable tub for the hospital, inflatable jacuzzis in various places, and wood-fired hot tubs in Eindhoven and South Africa, where I’ve spent many hours.

The fallout from my illness made the need for warm water even greater. My body doesn't handle the cold well; it feels as though the insurgents become extra active then. Temperatures below twenty degrees Celsius start making me feel unwell after a while. Everything begins to ache, and in more ways than one, that warm water is a welcome solution.

Here on our hill in Italy, it can be quite chilly in the mornings and evenings. And with a house lacking heating, I soon knew that something involving warm water had to happen.

And so, for the first time in my life, I ordered a real Jacuzzi! I hate bubbles—they cool the water down and disrupt the peace, so it had to be one that only pumps and heats.

Now it's here! A gleaming tub with room for the whole family. I sit in it at least twice a day. Sometimes accompanied by Lydia, but usually alone. I read on my Kindle, reply to messages on my phone. I also write texts. Like this piece, right now. But that has to be done with two thumbs, and my hands held cramped above the water.

It’s high time for a floating keyboard. That way, I can run a wet office all day long.