I haven't laughed that hard in my entire life.

So reading Wodehouse often provokes great mirth. Misreading Wodehouse provokes it to a positively perilous extent.

Erin was reading a chapter of Uncle Fred in the Springtime to Eddie and me . . .

The line was "She whipped her lorgnette out of its holster."

Somehow, inexplicably, Eddie and I both heard "She whipped her long neck out of its holster."

We thought it was hysterical, and burst out laughing, and spent the next five minutes whipping our heads around trying to reproduce that image. Erin just looked at us in bewilderment.

It wasn't until an hour later when I quoted what we thought we'd heard that she set us straight.

It really was the hardest I can remember laughing.

Announcement! My roommate has a blog! And so does Charity!