I finished reading Illuminata (sp?) a couple of weeks ago at my parent's house in Florida, along with last month's book club pick, Tomorrow When the World Began, neither of which have anything in common, except that I used them both as buffers against creepy plane people.

Here's a wrybrarian first: I can't remember how to spell Illuminata, nor can I remember the author's name. And if I can't find it to put a snappy link on it, I don't know how you're going to find it to read it. Nonetheless, it was an entertaining tome set in the Jazz Age about a wet-behind-the-ears graduate student charged with exposing a beautiful psychic.

Tomorrow, on the other hand, was a little war of the worlds epic for teens. It's about a group of Australian teens who set off for a week in the bush and return only to find that their city has been imprisoned by invaders from a country "to the south."

Blah. I'm paralyzed with boredom here at work today, and for the second afternoon, can't finish a review to save my life. When band and business are slow, underemployment burns, and I simmer. Quietly.

If you want to read something smart, pick up this week's TimeOut Chicago. I've got a review published there. Toot toot! (that, of course, is the sound of my own horn).

Stories from the copy editing front:

I was just walking back to my desk when somebody peeked their head into my office and started walking toward me. So, of course, I said, "Hi! Were you looking for me," in the hopes that there might be something billable for me to look over.

"No," she answers. "Copy machine."

These, my friends, are the perils of sitting in a supply closet.