For the past three days I have been a dutiful British Literature student, reading my way through Northanger Abbey.
This morning I finished the novel.
I cannot say that I loved it...in fact it was a rather exasperating read.
But it was finished and I found myself ranting to Moses about the horribly self gratifying characters contained within the pages and that with every word that came out of Isabella's mouth, I just wanted to shake dear Catherine and say "WAKE UP, these people are no good for you!"
Then Jesse offered me a bored expression which said
"I'm really not interested."
And so I, being the good wife that I am, took the time to describe the plot
...ever so briefly...
that he would have a basic knowledge of who and what I was referring to, and why it all fit together.
Those of you who know me, also know that I am incapable of providing a summary...my brief description lasted about ten minutes.
until I sneezed
and Jesse said to me:
"That was your soul trying to escape from all that Jane Austen crap floating around in you head."
To which we both laughed, and then Jesse walked away so that he would not have to endure any more of my "brief descriptions"
I really can't say that I blame him.
And now, I am left to wonder why anyone would want to vacation in any place like Bath....or Venice, for that matter. All that water would have smelled absolutely horrific.