I want a mermaid bath. I have been told this is a little odd because I am born and bred a landlocked Wyomingite but despite this I find mermaids pretty and want a treasure, shell, and shipwrecked bathroom. I am not certain if my fascination with mermaids stems from some kind of metaphor for my own desire to glide through life a bit more smoothly, like the mermaids swim, or if it is from my childhood love of the story in my fairytale book. I always cried at the end though, when she turns to seafoam, thinking it so unfair that mermaids were considered without a soul. I do know that my first experience of the ocean was a spiritual and profound moment; the crashing sound of the waves and the tug of the water on my bare feet made me want to dive headlong into something I knew could kill me. This undeniable pull must be what led explorers to venture beyond their horizons back when the world was undiscovered still. Perhaps some of us just have mermaid souls.