I don’t know why I set myself up like this. Recently, I watched a movie called That Forsyte Woman with Greer Garson and I really liked it. I found out it was based on the novel The Forsyte Saga, which I decided I really wanted to read.
Last night at Borders, I tried to find it, but I couldn’t remember whom it was by, so I tried the search computer at the information desk. I couldn’t remember how to spell “Forsyte.” I tried every variation I could with no success. A clerk tried to help me, but she couldn’t spell it either. Then I got the notion to find the movie by Greer Garson and go from there. Finally I found the author’s name, John Galsworthy, and I headed to the literature section.
And guess what. It was this frigging thick book with teeny tiny print that I could never read with my migraines in a million years. I was so frustrated that I exclaimed, “My brain is a marshmallow” out loud right when another clerk was walking by.
"Can I help you?" she asked.
Only if you reverse my marshmallow migraine braininess, I thought, but I told her no.
I ended up in the humor section where I picked out a book called Appetite for Detention by Sloane Tanen, a humor picture book about chenille chickens.