Letter #12: Do a foot soak
Doug has this thing where he isn’t as finicky about his back paws as his front paws. His new nail stylist Haley drives to our house to grind his nails, and she says all dogs are like that. What’s closer to the face feels more “me” and what’s farther away from my face feels less so.
I’m the same way—everything I put on my face is clean, pure, paraben-free. I use mineral-based sunscreens exclusively, just because I feel better about them and predict that most chemical sunscreen filters currently in use in the U.S. will eventually reveal themselves to be more bad than good.
This is why I have been so shocked by the revelation of an evening foot soak. I put a big spoonful/little handful of Epsom salts in this little tub I stole from my mom’s bathroom—she keeps plastic tubs everywhere in case someone needs to throw up, a nurse thing—and I run water from the hot tap in it. It starts cold, then gets super hot, and ends up creating the perfect temperature: not too hot for my hands, but just barely too-hot for my feet.
It helps me sleep without the recurring dreams of elevators, burned food, enormous buildings to navigate, and everyone watching me.
Now you know. Give generously to the least of the parts of yourself.