Bathtub Book Review, #5158

For the second night in a row, one of the cats has fallen into the bathtub while I am in it, reading Dave Eggers and drinking a vitamin water.

I was drinking a vitamin water both nights. Were they different flavors? They were. Last night it was açai berry zero, tonight citrus power, but the point is that the cat keeps falling into the bathtub while I am in it and neither one of us can continue living like this. She doesn’t realize how slippery the edge of the bathtub is and I am at a loss for how to protect her, least of all from the embarrassment of the other cat who watches her fall into the bathtub from a smug distance, sitting coyly by the folded towels and the melted candle, saying nothing. The other cat is a bitch.

Dave Eggers is a wonderful writer and this is really just my very roundabout, obscure way of recommending his memoir, A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius, to you. And to anyone who enjoys reading in the bath, really.

Eggers makes great bath tub reading.

You get that eerily echoey underwatery feeling, and you sink a few more inches into the steam, and you start to let go of the day, and then – kersplash – cat goes ass over teakettle into the tub for the second time in two nights and you realize it is time to go to bed, game over, jig is up, dead in the water.

When you blow out the candle you make a wish that tomorrow will break the ominous pattern, cats into bath, smoke into cities, strange men who reek of liquor into friendly mini marts where cheerful cynics pretend to dial 9-1-1, winking.

That’s where you get the Vitamin Water in the first place. They stock all your favorite flavors, know you and the ones you love by name and beverage preference. Me and my Vitamin Water, Treavor and his Chelada Limon.


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