I'm reading a book about time travel. And it's lovely and cracklike, and at the rate I'm going, I could be 250 pages in by the time I get off of work. Except, you know, you can only read about time travel for so long before your head starts to hurt. Particularly in this case, where the main characters are jumping times every few pages. I keep flipping back, trying to figure out where they just were. Maybe it's time to switch to Sherlock Holmes for awhile.