Thoughts while reading a book this weekend.

The main character had just folded a pile of cookies into a paper towel and I thought, “I could never write period fiction.  It just seems like every single sentence would need to be fact-checked.  Like did this author have to look up that paper towels were even invented back then?”

Then I realized that the book was set in 1978, just a few years before I was born.  So apparently, I think that before I made my debut in this world, it was a wasteland of dinosaur bones and cloth napkins.  And peanut-butter.  I know that was invented before me because in second grade, I did a report on George Washington Carver.