Harry Potter is not the kind of book you can put down until you’ve finished — all seven of ’em. It just can’t happen. Believe me, I’ve read them twice and you just can’t get enough of the Harry Potter’s world of witchcraft and wizardry. It is not something you get into lightly because it engages all your time and attention. Given that, this is probably the wrong book I could pick out at the moment, what with applications for electrical connection, choosing between two shades of grays of tiles, inventories, and one final exam this Sunday (you read that right: Sunday). But I miss laughing. And I remember how funny the series could be. J. K. Rowling is a witty, funny writer. And I do need this, something that would engage all of my sense and feelings and attention, because it’s a diversion from this thing that doesn’t involve work but occupies me anyway.
Harry Potter, I need you to do your magic on me. So far it is working. I feel I’m back in my old self again. I feel a little younger, more care-free, and happier. I do wish I were eleven and just discovering life. If I could meet my eleven year-old self I’ll tell her not to try and rush time, that being grown up isn’t what it was cut out to be. Eleven meant games and play and snacks prepared for you… less of boys, less of money, less of these goddamned electrical wiring questions.
Anyway, here I am now, back at Hogwarts. 🙂