and the Prisoner of Azkaban, currently

"Ah! I haven't done this in so long and I can't figure out why I stopped."
"What?" you ask, slyly.
"Reading a good book!" I yelp. "I can't get enough of JK Rowling!" I let out a little squeal and a yip before jumping in the air a little and grinning wide.

There is nothing quite like it. Last week, after finishing Tim O'Briens interminable and lesser novel, GOING AFTER CACCIATO, I figured the time was ripe to finally begin reading the series everyone has been talking about for the past decade. Dwight referenced it in the penultimate episode of THE OFFICE this season and, well, frankly, that's enough for me.

So, here we are, approximately one week later (give or take a day or two) and I'm midway through the third book. Hermoine is taking so many classes, her books just ripped a hole in her bookbag. Harry was told he's going to die by the Divination teacher. Draco is milking his stupid arm wound for all it's worth, giving poor Ron a terrible time of it. And Beedow is loving it.

I stay awake late. I get up early. I don't mind the long-ass subway rides I had to take over the weekend. I've forgotten about food (but not the season finales this past week, nor have I calmed down about what's going to happen Wednesday on LOST, but that's for tomorrow night), and if you know me, you know that means something's afoot! sir (as Sir Sherlock would have exclaimed).

I'm giddy as a schoolgirl, although, thankfully with my new fangled haircut, I no longer have the longish hair to be confused with one anymore. That's right. Beedow got what amounts to a military cut - no worries, I'm not going off to fight for my country and save our land or our fine upstanding president's hide. I just look like I am.

Thank you. I hope I made sense (said Parker Posy - nice link, JJ).