I don’t take my phone into the bathroom with me anymore.
C’mon, you do it too, and as a matter of fact, might I add, if ya do, grab a “wipey” and “Iswipe” that bad boy as it’s 1 of the 5 filthiest things we touch throughout the day.
From the path, I deviate.
But to the bread crumbs I return.
I have since put books back in my bathroom. A couple in a basket. A couple on the back of the bowl.
All non fiction.
Some quote books.
A couple prosperity books.
A book of poems by cats. It’s a book of poems penned as if by paw.
Unplugging is magical.
I found that my phone was literally connected to me now that I have that popper thingee on the back of it. My pointer and middle finger are almost always snuggly wrapped around it. I’m sure if I kept that up, through the evolutionary process, my flesh would have eventually encapsulated it.
My eyes constantly buried in an app, a file, a document, an email, a text, something.
So now, I am choosing to page through my books, read a few pages…or not. But I’m disconnecting my hypnotized eyes from my screen and unplugging for moments through my day.
The bathroom being one of them.
It can wait.
TMI? Maybe. But, IDGAF.