yarrr, ye scurvy boy-king, halt ye whinin'

There was one sure way to avoid being assigned an impromptu chore in our house--be it taking out the trash or cleaning your room--and that was to have your face buried in a book. Like churches during the Middle Ages, books conferred instant sanctuary. Once you entered one, you couldn't be disturbed. They didn't give you immunity from prosecution if you'd done something wrong--just a temporary reprieve. But we quickly learned you had to both look and be completely engrossed--just flipping pages didn't count.

from The End of Your Life Book Club by Will Schwalbe