Status Updates From Leave It to Psmith

Psmith is really grating.

I'm so amused; slogged through the first three quarters for this flower pot story: "Day in, day out, Rupert Baxter had been exercising his brain ever since he had come to the castle — and now he had gone and sprained it."

He started early and finished late. It was his gentle boast that for more than twenty years he had never missed his full eight hours. Generally he managed to get something nearer ten.
But then, as a rule, people did not fling flower-pots through his window at four in the morning.
Even under this unusual handicap, however, he struggled bravely to preserve his record. The first of Baxter’s missiles, falling on a settee

"The Earl of Emsworth, who had not thought quickly since the occasion in the summer of 1874 when he had heard his father’s footsteps approaching the stable-loft in which he, a lad of fifteen, sat smoking his first cigar, was an excellent sleeper."