It’s not so much that the loo is my favorite place to read, but it’s certainly the most reliably uninterrupted. At least, now it is. For the first four years of my daughter’s life, she was always in there with me, which didn’t stop me from reading, but definitely lowered my concentration level. She still wants to come in, but I’ve drummed it into her head that for mommy, “potty time is private time.”
It’s also reading time.
Whatever novel I’m reading, it comes along with me, every time. (Sorry Debs who followed me on the reading list for Eleanor, Kim, and Sarah’s books! Tawna, yours is comin’ in there too!)
In case I forget to bring it in, or the need is too dire to wait for me to grab it, I keep the basket next to the commode stocked with at least one non-fiction book I can easily pick up without losing a narrative (something on parenting, or writing, or fitness usually), plus several magazines.
So if you ever come to visit me and you notice me racing off for potty breaks a-plenty, know that it’s probably not because I have a ridiculously tiny bladder (although my daughter will assure you that I do), but because I’m in the middle of a really good book.
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