Held Hostage by "The Help"

There's a new, exciting pattern that has taken hold in my bedroom. (Sorry, not that kind of exciting.)

Here's how it goes. My husband walks into our bedroom at 10:45 to find me reading The Help. Still. He looks at me disapprovingly.

"You've got to stop reading and go to sleep," he says.

"I know, I know," I answer. "I'll just finish this chapter." And then I read maybe two more chapters, and suddenly it's 11:45.

You see, I'm being held hostage by The Help, because it does not make me sleepy...