We (the BF and I) spent last weekend at Disneyland, Sunday being my birthday and all.

I am a reverse hotel snob. I have very few requirements of a hotel room: the toilet must flush, the shower must be hot, and the room must be clean — not in great shape, but clean.

And, quite frankly, the cost of the room should be less than the cost of a single day Park Hopper ticket to the actual parks.

That’s right. Why would I want to spend more on a room to leave my stuff in during the day and to sleep in at night than I am paying to go to DISNEYLAND?! Seriously! The park has RIDES. The room does not. Comparatively speaking, the room has very little to offer.

So when we go to Disneyland, I take great joy in finding a place to sleep that is within walking distance for under $100 a night...and I usually manage to do that.

Which is how we ended up at a Days Inn on Ball Avenue (you can look it up in your favorite map site if you like) for three nights.

This was our first time at the Days Inn, and for the record, it met my requirements and the front desk staff was also very nice. But that’s not what this blog is about. This blog is about our bathtub.

Not our bathtub, like the one in the house — I mean the bathtub in the hotel room.

It was one of those big, jetted Jacuzzi tubs. And you know the BF is all looking at me with his eyebrow raised. And I’m looking at that tub like it’s a plague-infested rat.

Ever since the Watsonville pedicure debacle, I am just plain terrified of Jacuzzi jets — or any other brand of spa jets, for that matter.

I’ll still get in a hot tub — as long it’s one that is consistently filled with water and heavily chlorinated. But what about those bathtubs?

Who disinfects those? Is there a regulatory agency that hands out guidelines for those tubs in hotels? Does Housekeeping fill the tub up and pour bleach in for 20 minutes while they vacuum my room and try on my shoes? (I’m pretty sure they do that.)

Yeah. I don’t think so either. I think hotel owners put those things in the rooms thinking it was an awesome upgrade that would give them a reason to charge more. Most of the time, the things don’t even work. Because I’m pretty sure that hotel owners learned right fast that people didn’t think Jacuzzi tubs were worth paying an extra $25 a night.

Anyway. The BF did offer to go buy a bottle of bleach to disinfect the pipes. But I gave him my best “oh I don’t think so” look and we agreed to pretend the Tub of Doom wasn’t even there.