Last night I dreamed that I was telling my parents "The Chettams received that DVD." I think I have gone a little too far. One most pull up. Reading great books from the 19th century, that sort of thing, is good -- up to a certain point. (A certain point, you know.) But dreaming about fictional characters, being more concerned about the politics of Middlemarch than of Canada, debating whether to vote for Tyke or Farebrother, longing to go visit the Garths... it will not do, you know. I must pull up.
Yes, I'm rereading "Middlemarch". And, no, I can't resist throwing a metaphorical egg at Brooke of Tipton.