A Bookshelf In The Water Closet?

I love to read. I've always got a book I'm working on (although I say 'working' only because a word not freighted with the implication of duty doesn't present itself). I read before bed and I read on the bus or train. I consider it whenever there is dead time and it is convenient to have my book with me. Sometimes I just don't do it, for reasons that seem to make sense in my mind. At such times I have made other arrangements.

While conducting the usual business in a restroom, my usual expectation is that I will be through soon enough that I won't get bored and require reading material. That is not the case for some, and I can surmise this because they keep their periodicals there on top of the tank or beside the toilet. There's something I don't like about books or magazines tainted in this way. You can't take the same tome and have it in the living room, can you?

If I must read something, then I usually improvise. This is the time when I learn what my deodorant or bar soap is made of. Generally the packaging on my various toiletries provides me with an adequate quantity of literature. This has at least been true to the present day. Even if it were not, as I said I find the idea of my books being in there distasteful. Only something very ephemeral could be considered for such hazardous duty.

What I have decided to try is catalogues. I don't order from them anyway, and the next one is sure to arrive before the present one becomes unfit from being doused with water or from some other ignominious fate. I presently receive the J. Peterman catalogue, which is far too expensive to even contemplate ordering from, and which contains writing of unusual skill and interest by ordinary catalogue copy standards. I think that seeing that there will really put at ease the mind of a woman visiting my home. We'll see how this goes.