The one where she decides that the world needs a snappy update to A Journal of the Plague Year

I admit I've never read it, which is a little surprising because I tend to gravitate towards long, woolly novels written by dead white men. I have, however, read Robinson Crusoe, by the same author, and that should count for something. I mean, who else has read it?

And speaking of snappy updates, who's to say that the Clueless screenwriters actually read Emma? Actually, I'm sure they did. But they could have gotten away with reading the Sparknotes.

ANYWAY, my takeaway point from Robinson Crusoe is that when you're stuck on a desert island, you might as well make the best of it. Also, that your time literally has no value, as demonstrated by the time that Robinson went to the trouble of constructing a canoe out of a huge, heavy log he found, and then realized, after he had finished it, that he had absolutely no way of getting the log down to the water. So he started right in on building another canoe.

This was exactly my attitude when the plague struck. Here I was, stuck in the house, so I might as well do every dull job that I've ever procrastinated my way out of, like the weasel I am.

The first three days it was laundering everything made of fabric, right down to slipcovers, guest towels, tea towels, oven mitts, and mattress pads. That kept me out of trouble for a while.

What else? Organizing the cupboards, naturally. And the linen closet.

I'll tell you one thing: what really sucks is wanting to donate your old shit, but nobody is accepting donations. Because I COULD FILL A DUMPSTER. But can't.