Yes, I get it: you’re reading Harry Potter’s last book.
Or you’re done. Yes. Most likely you’re done.
And you loved it. Or you didn’t love it as much because of <insert spoiler here>.
And you really, really, really want to talk about it, like now.
So I’m going to avoid you for a few days.
I was in your shoes not too long ago. In fact, not to toot my own horn, but I was there totally hooked on HP back in late 1998 and early 1999, when it was not the coolest thing to be doing (at least in America anyway). I stood in line to get book 4 and book 5.
If we’re splitting hairs, I even know what it’s like to have a bad haircut and broken glasses at age 10.
I loved the books. I loved the movies –although arguably never as much as the books.
And then came a few things in rapid succession:
1. I didn’t enjoy the last book I read as much as I thought I would (that would be "Order Of The Phoenix"– proceed to gasp and ask me how I could have lived life without reading "Half-Blood Prince"),
2. Monsieur Meow refused to read the books.
3. The subsequent movies kind of have raped and plundered at will and I don’t enjoy them as much as I feel I should– although I have seen them all.
I am not sure what happened.
Somewhere along the way I lost interest and I kind of miss it. I miss the excitement of getting the new book and wondering what will happen. I miss being giddy like everyone I know has been for the past month or so.
I miss being part of the flock on this one.
But I still don’t want you to pelt me with spoilers, okay?
Oh…. and…. who can’t wait for the latest OK! magazine! Hell, spoilers and all, that issue will be the shit! (Literally, since the dog doodooed over everything.)
Have a good Humpday, everyone. And I am glad you’re enjoying your last Harry Potter book.
Glad, and a little jealous.