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It is a truth universally acknowledged that a teenaged girl in possession
of an invitation to the senior prom must be in want of a dress -- and so last
night I and my own Lizzie Bennet set out to the dressmaker's (read: Tyson's
Corner Center) so that she might be properly clad for this splendid event.
The Jane Austen allusions are mainly here because my daughter persisted in
treating me as if I were Mrs. Bennet: A silly, blathering,
not-very-well-educated idiot. Not only do I not know how dresses should fit, I
have no idea what's in style, what looks good on her, or how much cleavage is
too much.
By the time we'd wound up locked inside of a department store because she'd
insisted on trying on three more dresses as the loudspeakers blared "Please take
purchases to the nearest cashier now; we are closing in five minutes," I was
more done than a roast forgotten in the oven. I wearily piloted our car back
home and kept my mouth firmly closed the entire way, lest I say something
regrettable twixt mall and driveway.
I was so wrung out by the whole experience that I couldn't sleep, so of
course, I decided to read. Fortunately, I'd recently purchased several books I
really wanted to read, so I picked up Olive Kitteridge by Elizabeth
Strout.
What a mistake! I think everyone should have a special nightstand stack
dedicated to insomniac moments. This stack would include some French literary
theory, an old history textbook or two, and perhaps some nursery rhymes --
things that are guaranteed to either stun or lull your brain into slumber. What
shouldn't be in that stack are books of such beauty and truth, like "Olive
Kitteridge," that they keep you awake. I didn't sleep a wink, and while I regret
the lack of rest, I don't regret a second of Strout's story collection. If you
haven't read this Pulitzer Prize winner, I highly recommend it.
But what do you
read when you're trying to fall asleep?
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