Oh, and this is the last time I'm using Frankenstein. For anything. EVER. (I hate you, Mary Shelley. And you, Wordsworth. And you, too, Dickens, but I guess it's not your fault that not a single one of your contemporaries ever explained to you the glory of EDITING to save me from reading through a hundred pages of superfluous garbage. I'll probably forgive you, Dickens, if only 'cause of A Christmas Carol. But not you, Wordsworth. Your soul is forfeit. >.<)
I still can't believe I was driven to using Frankenstein at all, to be honest. But I procrastinated and then I needed an appropriate novel that a) I could get through in less than a day and b) was actually in my posession. And... yeah. I tend to borrow classics, not buy them. Except second-hand, 'cause I like the old covers (Note to self: check New West library for discards?). And wow, has it been that long since I bought books?
(September. Wait 'til September.)
Anyway, it's done, and I've got another one for the other history class due Friday, which will be emminently more interesting but a touch more stressful because I've got research, but no outline to speak of, and only the vague resemblance of a subject, and on this one I actually have to try.