Oh yes! We are absolutely running a series on bathroom reading! So long as it's taking place behind the closed (or open, if that's the way you swing) bathroom door, we want to know what it is. It can be a book, the back of the shampoo bottle, the newspaper, or Twitter on your cell phone - whatever helps you pass the time...
Susie, the brains behind Insatiable Booksluts, gives us a good soak in today's bathroom post:
There are many popular reading spots that just don't work for me. I don't like reading in bed very much; I can never seem to get comfortable when I'm completely horizontal, no matter how much I roll around trying to find a sweet spot for reading. I don't own enough pillows to get a good angle, and hubs gets mad at me for some reason when I try to commandeer the blankets to prop myself up better. Nor do I have a favorite reading chair these days; my papasan bit the dust in college when my idiot roommates left it out in the rain to get mildewed, and I never bothered to replace the cushion. I can't say that I don't like to read on the john--I frankly don't trust anybody who claims they never read there--but . . . well, I have to confess that I often use that time to level up in Bejeweled.
When Lori mentioned that she wanted to launch a bathroom reading series, I immediately knew that I needed to participate, even though it was geared more toward toilet reading and that's my Bejeweled time. Why? Because my ideal reading place, practically since I learned how to read, has been here:
The bathtub is perfect for reading, provided you can hang onto your book and keep it from taking a dip. (Have I had bathtub casualties? Yes, indeedy. Do I frequently risk dunking my Kindle anyway? I do. I live on the edge.) In the tub, I can lay at a perfect angle with ample back support, be surrounded with warm or cool water appropriate to the weather, and even dump in some bubbly smelly things to heighten the ambiance. The lighting is usually bright, and--the best part--people tend to leave me alone when I'm in the bathroom with the door closed. I can't get that kind of alone time in any other part of the house, where cats and husband vie for my attention. One of my cats does her best to actually sit on whatever I'm trying to read . . . but not if I'm in the bathtub, with a protective moat of water around me.
I particularly like my current bathroom. It has a cool focal wall and a window overlooking some trees. It lacks any kind of storage, but I made--I mean, asked--my husband to install some shelves. You know, for shampoo, soap . . . and books.
I keep a pile right above the tub to make sure I'm never caught without something good to read. It works if I don't have my smartphone handy for a round of games, too. (I may or may not also have The Old Man and the Sea stashed under a box of tampons. Papa H is probably rolling in his grave.)
Now you know my secret--when I talk about reading, I'm almost always parked right here:
Except, you know--without pants.