A woman in a bath looks up in alarm as a kraken comes out of the tub

We're Gonna Need A Bigger... Bath!

If you are familiar with the film series Jaws, you automatically thought: BOAT! We're gonna need a bigger BOAT! What in the blue blazes has that to do with restless legs syndrome?!

This is where I remove the boat in your head and replace it with bath. We are going to need a more enormous-er bath.

Having a hot bath to relax

I experienced this yesterday whilst trying to have a relaxing afternoon soak, turning my fingers into prunes.

I filled my small bath with just enough water that when I entered, the contents did not try and overflow all over the floor. At a temperature just lower than lava, I tentatively lowered myself into the 4 inches of bubbles and 1 inch of water that stayed in the fibreglass tub.

Leaning back against the freezing white paint, my feet on the taps, I thought I felt a familiar tingle. I convinced myself I must have just imagined it, as I wasn't going to be attacked at 2:00 PM; it was barely the afternoon!

It was like I had unleashed the Kraken

As I was listening to some good old 1980s music drifting out of my iPhone on the windowsill, my knee tensed up, almost smacking me in the face as it recoiled in the air above the bath. Catching me by surprise, it confirmed my suspicions.

My RLS had not received the memo that it wasn't supposed to rear its creepy head until the sun had gone down. Inconsiderate condition!

Once it had been acknowledged, it was like I had unleashed the Kraken — legs flailing everywhere, arms trying to recreate the 1980s rave scene, it was like I had adopted its 8 legs/arms/appendages(?). Have you ever tried to stay still while your RLS is full-on infiltrating your body?

A cup of bedtime tea

After 5 minutes of inadvertently throwing water all over the bathroom floor, I admitted defeat. Upon ordering a cup of 'bedtime tea' in my head, it seemed my arms called a temporary truce in order to allow me to make it, safe in the knowledge that the chamomile in the tea might soothe the jerkiness into submission.

Once I had wrangled the bedsheet into pliability — along with my limbs, which refused to yield whatsoever — I dug through the clean washing in order to find some pajamas that would stay on me whilst I squirmed through a TV programme on the sofa.

Beforehand, the cup of tea was still calling. To enable me to make a hot drink without scalding myself, I purchased an automatic drink dispenser before the holidays, so all I had to do was try and capture a teabag in my mug (easier said than done), chase some sugar around the pot with a spoon, and accurately fire it towards the very same cup.

Hitting the sofa for TV and tea

RLS can make things tough sometimes. One thing I seem to excel at is shaking my cartons of oat milk. I wonder why that is? Anyway, milk deposited, water dispensed, and 3 minutes on the timer, I chose that moment to try and relieve my calf muscle that had tensed up, resulting in me toppling over and banging my wrist on the table.

The timer alarm bleeped out the expletives from the accident, giving me a few minutes of relief as my body zoned in on that pain and anguish rather than the usual one.

Tea made, television switched on, I plonked onto the sofa with defeatism in the sigh that left my mouth.

It all started because I wanted a relaxing soak in the bath. Damn you RLS, damn you!

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