It's true: I made LS attend an organ recital. We also went to a musical – Nunsense – and tonight we're going to see a string quartet with Grandpa. It's all meant to balance out letting her watch low-culture Harper's Island with me.
And she's so right when she says, "I can't believe John Wakefield isn't dead." Because they billed this stupid show as a kind of Ten Little Indians. A bunch of people on an island with a scary history getting picked off one by one. We were supposed to be able to figure it out: which one of them was the killer? And so it was going along until Saturday, when they brought back to life the guy who made the island scary in the first place, years ago. Kind of not fair. Sure, I'm sure he's got a modern-day accomplice or whatever, but still – cheap.
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