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Location: Brooklyn, New York, United States

I have a tendency to unconsciously appropriate other peoples' affectations, leading me to say things like y'all.

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Friday, April 21, 2006

Our Housekeeping

I've been reading DAVID COPPERFIELD* and came across this paragraph, which I love (even though it's right after he goes and marries that insipid twit of a woman Dora) describing the first housekeeper he and his new (damn her) wife hire:

Her name was Paragon. Her nature was represented to us, when we engaged her, as being feely expressed in her name. She had a written character, as large as a proclamation; and, according to this document, could do everything of a domestic nature that ever I heard of, and a great many things that I never did hear of. She was a woman in the prime of life; of a severe countenance; and subject (particularly in the arms) to a sort of perpetual measles or fiery rash. She had a cousin in the Life Guards, with such long legs that he looked like the afternoon shadow of somebody else. His shell-jacket was as much too little for him as he was too big for the premises. He made the cottage smaller than it need have been, by being so very much out of proportion to it. Besides which, the walls were not thick, and whenever he passed the evening at our house, we always knew of it by hearing one continual growl in the kitchen.

If that right there isn't Dickens, I don't know what is.

*Don't venture to ask me how long I'm taking to read it, because I'd be too embarassed to answer.


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