Block: A Six Sentence Story

I had intended to have a leisurely bubble bath, soaking in warm water, scrolling through Pinterest on my phone, before going to bed, because who doesn't sleep better after a long, soaky bubblebath? I ran water in my large Jacuzzi-style tub, adding plenty of bubblebath, and when the tub was full and frothy, I climbed in and leaned back onto my bath pillow, not realizing until I got myself completely settled that the water was hotter than was really comfortable, and while any ordinary person would sit up and run some cold water into the tub to bring the temperature down from poach to slight simmer, my stomach muscles won't allow me to do that since my reconstruction surgery from bilateral mastectomy four years ago; instead, I laid there, sweating and scrolling through my phone, even dozing off a few times, until I reached the hard-boiled point and decided to get out.

Since I can't sit up, the only way I can get myself out of the tub (short of using a wrecker) is to roll over on my side and get up on my hands and knees, at which time I can stand up, towel off, and step out of the tub. Maybe it was the extra bath bubble solution that I put in to ensure an extra-sudsy experience, but this time, THIS time, something went terribly wrong, and the second I rolled over onto my right side to begin the launch process, I flipped like a turtle onto my left hip, my back against the outer edge of the tub, and torpedoed around the periphery of the tub, continuing until I had made it three-quarters of the way around the and stopping only when I whacked the back of my head on the faucet. And I didn't hit the hard part of my head, but instead made contact with the faucet with the soft part, just above the nape of my neck, the part that seems to be unprotected by skull and vulnerable to brain injury (or at least a whopper of a headache) when it thwacks into something hard and stationary, such as a faucet. Had the faucet not blocked my forward momentum, I fear I would have been a living example of Newton's First Law of Motion, spiraling around and around the tub into eternity, or until someone in my household, be they either two- or four-footed, needed to be fed.

Death spiral began at green arrow, ending
abruptly at faucet (that's a faucet the red arrow
is pointing to, not an elephant or worse).

Linking up with Ivy at Uncharted for Six Sentence Stories with the prompt "block."