i take showers

showers have always been boxy experiences.  ever since we moved to the apartment, showers meant glass and tile blue box set beside toilet and cream walls. before this, i was tiny.  my only memories of not boxy shower, lie in photo albums of slumber parties at my grandmother’s home with joyful plastic bath toys, and loving hands that shampoo your small head, in her small yellow house. 

when we lived in the apartment, we had a cat.  a secret cat that the manager didn’t know about.  when she had to go to the vet we would shove her into that hard plastic adobe colored cat-carrier and cover it with a towel.  then, you walk quietly out the door with it, pretending what you are doing is normal apartment behavior, and once the howling starts to sound deadly from around your thigh, you bolt. 

but there was no good place to put the litter box for this cat.  but we happened to have two bathrooms. let the cat poop in the bathroom, too?  as fate would have it, one of these had a bath tub.

for eleven years, spot pooped in the bathtub.