The Istoriaphile’s Corner

There’s nothing like cleaning up a seldom-used room for turning up forgotten photographs.  A small pile of candid shots were dislodged as I was re-shelving some books  and drifted toward the rug. My husband picked up this one and handed it back to me with a smile saying, “Is there a reason I never see you read while you’re sitting in a chair?  No, there probably isn’t  except that after thirty years of marriage, he should know that reading isn’t a chair-limited activity to me.  In fact, some of my best reading is in unlikely places. I am grateful no photos exist of me reading in the tub but that’s not from lack of opportunity.  Tub-reading has always seemed like the height of luxury to me, since it combines words with relaxing in water.  Of course it requires skill to keep the water-soluble print from the H2O (especially if shampoo is involved) but this is one I hone with regular practice.  Outside of this, the only difficulty with tub-reading depends on the hot water supply.  In a good scene, there is never enough. I have been known to read in the car although never as a driver while the vehicle was in motion.  (That’s my story, Officer, and I’m…