Harry Potter

I keep getting up to refer to the end of Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince. If I don't stop this, I'll never get anywhere. Though I did have to get up the first time simply because Rowling is not holding back, here; this is a dense, dark, straight-to-it sort of book, no fussing around or dawdling at the beginning.

Like I said, no spoilers here, but I did get a little choked up two or three times already.

Back I go. The boyfriend has been pressed into service as a coffee maker and another cup awaits.

It's 10:30 on Friday. I should be out and about, but no; I'm in the middle of a project too absurd to even go into. I keep being tempted by the Harry Potter parties — it's the last book! I've never gone to a midnight party, despite my obsessiveness! — but sometimes it just works out that once you're in for the night, working on a stupid project and sipping Sierra Nevada Bigfoot Barleywine (which you swiped from your boyfriend, if you're me), you're in for good.

But Books Without Borders is just blocks away ...

But if I go alone, I'll feel ... old.

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