A bit late, but to hell with it. Late is better than never. In most cases, at least. I suppose to a terminally ill individual waiting for a new heart it wouldn't matter if it never came had it been late, but alas, I digress.
The day we were assigned to select a book for the closest thing a structured, tri-weekly class could hope to have for a book club (an all around rather plesant experience, actually) I realized how little I knew about the subject matter of any of the three selections. One seemed rather obviously about fast food, and, although I had enjoyed journalistic exploits into this territory before (Super Size Me, for your reference) I had little desire to delve into it yet again. I didn't have much time to reflect on the other two choices before I was unexpectedly called upon to swear my allegiance to one, and only one piece of writing. I called out the title that sounded most intriguing and was cemented in place in a lot named Bait and Switch.
I would soon come to find the piece was by none other than Barbara Ehrenreich, the very same investigative journalist who had written Nickel and Dimed, a selection I had quite enjoyed in a previous class.
Today's conclusion: I am quite possibly the luckiest procrastinator in the world.
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