The neighborhood is so quiet and peaceful this morning, and I love our little treehouse apartment, with its big, breezy windows and cozy reading spots. I'm reading George Eliot's The Mill on the Floss and regrouping after one seriously rough week. Is anyone more brilliant and insightful than George? Or more hilarious? Sometimes, when I'm reading a really fantastic bit of dialogue, I get distracted by the genius of the writer, and start wondering about her. I have to reread a lot of passages.
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