In print, it's libel.

Saturdays seem to be really bad for my work ethic. And by work, I mean blogging. Ok, that's not actually true, either - while I did not, in fact, want to read, I also didn't want to go to work today. But I have a choice about subjecting myself to E. M. Forster, and not so much about fulfilling my poorly paid tutoring hours. Ahem. This is really just a long-winded excuse for not making a real post. (Also, rumors that you may have heard that I'm reading other books instead are unfounded and frankly despicable, because I would never do something so irresponsible and devious. Especially not children's books from the 1950s*.)

Still love me? More Victorian ridiculousness tomorrow.




*Seriously, though, have you read 101 Dalmatians? Because it's completely awesome.