With every passing day I better understand the mothers in Victorian novels who stay in their bedrooms with the curtains closed and complain vaguely about their “nerves.”

Vai ir Nobela Miera prēmijas specbalva? Jo to būtu pelnījis cilvēks, kas spēj bez nervu sabrukuma jēdzīgi salocīt palagus ar gumiju jeb “fitted sheets”. 😩