I would for the trees

This is a dull story. I know this because in the last week I have told it to two girls, both of whom told me how dull it was. I'd tell it to more, but I've no more to bore. You'll have to hear it instead: I recently bought Notes From Underground by Dostoevsky, a book I've been meaning to read for a long time. But! And here's the catch, I had thought, assumed even, it was called Notes From The Underground. For years I had thought that. Imagine the shock then when I see the The is missing! Gone! Worse than gone, it was never there to begin with. Now this is big! A true plank-in-the-eye missing moment, like realising your six year old child hasn't been home from school for a while, at least not since scouts. And it was all very profound and said many meaningful things about the distracted and preoccupied way I live my life, until I went into a bookstore yesterday and saw a Dostoevsky called... Notes From The Underground. Hmm. Turns out it was just my translation and the title more often than not contains the The. So I bored you and those two nice girls for nothing.