Why are novels so hard to make excerpts of? I've been dithering over what bits of
Uncle Tom's Cabin to assign for next semester. The whole novel is quite long, as 19th century novels tend to be. I'm thinking I want Eliza's escape over the river, and Ophelia's reactions to slavery, and Tom's death on Legree's plantation - but even those add up to quite a lot of pages.
And I am so mentally tired right now that I almost wrote "Uncle Tim's Cabin" for "Uncle Tom's". I guess that would be the cheap knockoff of Stowe's novel? The reason my brain is fried is that I interrupted my work day this afternoon to listen to an internet broadcast of a Lieder recital and, well, sustained attention to music for an hour or two tends to end mental activity for the day - at least for me. But what can you do? 8pm CET is 1pm Central, and there's nothing you can really do about that.
My landlady brought people by today to look at my apartment. It was a young woman and her mother - the young woman has a new job at the medical center. They both really wanted to know if I was planning to sell my furniture. (I have awesome furniture.) But I am not.