Last night, I started reading...

...Janet Evanovich's Wicked Appetite, so I'm distracted by that this morning.

It's extremely meh, but I just keep turning the pages. She's the literary equivalent of cotton candy¹. Not very good, but you just keep eating it.

Her choppy sentences seem to be rubbing off on me. How annoying.

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¹Crappy cotton candy, I mean, not awesomely delicious maple cotton candy². Which I'm planning to eat the hell out of at the Fryeburg Fair next month. Possibly until I feel ill.

²Another great thing about maple cotton candy? It's not at all filling, so it leaves plenty of room for poutine.