It should appear that I spent the entirety of my troublesome afternoon retired to the sitting room watching what one can only assume is the finest in British comedy, "Jeeves and Wooster," or to some, "Birtie and Jeeves." Good heavens sir, I do believe that a young Miss Madeline Basset has been rubbing her ridiculous tendencies towards old English ways off onto your's truly! Whatever shall we do?
I watched all of the ones which we had the foresight to purchase, which is a collection quite grand in it's magnitude. I particularly enjoy the ones in which Mr. Fingknottle has the great misfortune of losing his fiance to some unforseen misunderstanding which Birtrum and his vague knowledge of "Eulily," is generous enough to untangle.
A room parent meeting shall be held tonight at Pasta Pomodoro. I have quite the effinity for their ravioli, and I have the great fortune of being toted along to the shindig. But sadly, my mother forgot that tomorrow she has some training class to go to for her job, and I have been looking forward to "Take your daughter to work day" for the entirity of this week. I should have liked to have seen my mothers new job; which she assures me has little difference from her old employment.

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