Because I couldn't run the risk of having some completely inconsiderate sasswipe ruin what I felt sure to be J.K. Rowling's perfect ending (like, say, the really prize jerk who announced to a line 30-strong that Bruce Willis was "totally dead from the get-go" as I eagerly awaited my admittance to see The Sixth Sense), I hunkered down at 7:30 p.m. Saturday night resolved not to close the book until it was finished.
And because I didn't finish the book until 6 a.m. Sunday morning and subsequently had to stay up for the rest of the day to go to the p-t job, drive and otherwise operate as a moderately functioning human being, my sleep pattern has been jacked up ever since. A jacked up sleep pattern leads to the following:
- me hearing the alarm when it first goes off, but then falling asleep and not recalling any of the dozen or so snoozes that invariably took place between now and the time I am actually supposed to be pulling into the parking lot. Have been at least 25 minutes late 3 times this week (right. It's Wednesday, so of courseit'd be three times. Duh.).
Today by far was the worst. I got in the shower at the very time I was supposed to be slippin' my car into 3rd gear for a most excellent merging opportunity.
- me driving to work, arriving and having no idea how or when I even got there. Seriously have sat in the car for at least 2 minutes the past three mornings just staring straight ahead only to hear someone's car door close and then I jump-start back to "reality." Yesterday the owner of the company (Mr. Boss Bossman for real) pulled in next to me and actually stopped and leaned forward to see if I was okay as he passed by the front of my car. Whoops.
- me feeling like i've been spliced between HP world and real, actual world. I've read various accounts of late from friends and friends of friends about Accio-in' the remote, and I realize that we are all still pining for a non-Muggle experience of our very own.
I know I am. All my life, I have inhabited the world that I've read about in books. It is, of course, one of the things that makes reading so wonderful and magical (goi. stupid pun there), and it's the one feeling that I judge a book by -- was I lost in it? Did it end with me finding myself flipping back to re-read the last chapter wishing it'd suck me back in to what is otherwise a wrinkle in real time? Did it end with me spending the next 3 hours to 7 days wondering what so-and-so did next, or what it must be like to use a portkey? If so, then it was a stupendous book and I will love it forever.
I think being an adult at a stage in my life where I feel like I'm on a quest of my own (that appears to have no ending) makes reading HP bittersweet.
I don't wish to have the pain of migraines measured in like, voltages, I definitely do not like the idea of having that much interaction with someone so vehemently attached to the color pink and clearly I would not enjoy being chased by Death Eaters, dementors and a hissing Voldemort, but I envy Harry for having a purpose in his life to which he was knowingly destined and determined to fulfill.
It's not just fun to get lost in the revelry of what it'd be like to party it up in Hogsmeade, it's easy. Probably far too easy for a girl like me who's seriously been perusing sites intent on purchasing things she could then use in her daily life to stupefy and/or obliviate certain co-workers, left-lane lingerers and the like.
I know I am crazy, but I would seriously love to have my wand at the ready when someone comes around the corner to drop something in my inbox. Just the idea of a hearty "Expelliarmus!" aimed at the carrier of a stupid "ASAP" request or a pile of papers would just be flat. out. awesome.
And to be casting protective spells around my cubicle to render me inaudible (save for the typing upon my keyboard) and invisible (except to be seen entering and leaving for timekeeping purposes)?! Dude.
I could (and have and can) literally just keep conjuring up different things I'd do with myself were I not the Muggle that I am, but alas, I've no time-traveling necklace or powers to summon 5:30 to my present and so I continue to dream and ponder the next book into which I can lose myself.
Any suggestions?