Here's what I keep forgetting: that I'm boarding a train on Saturday afternoon bound for Chicago. How totally exotic and old-timey, right? (Except that, should you see the room we're in (or roomette, as they call it) the word exotic may not apply) It's kind of a dream come true, to travel across the country by train. Mostly because to me, long distance train travel involves large hats, Cary Grant, and intrigue. All things I love. I don't want to go as far as to say that if I don't get to solve a murder I'm going to be a little disappointed, but, well, I'm going to be a little disappointed. And I've never been to Chicago so I'm pretty excited for the whole experience - Cubs game, museums, architecture boat cruise, pizza - we're doing it all.
But I keep forgetting about it because of one thing - Harry Potter. I have my ticket for Friday night (no midnight showing for this 80 year old) and I spend my days reading articles and watching clips and basically being a total Potter Dweeb. AND I AM NOT ASHAMED! Today, for proof, I read something that reminded me of a part in the book that destroyed me (Snape...you know) but conveniently blocked out, because I am emotionally stunted,and when what happens came back to me I started to lose it and I had to promise myself a shaved ice to cheer myself up. (Aside: this is quickly turning into the Summer of My Shaved Ice Addiction.) I have not come to terms with the sad fact that by 11 pm on Friday the whole thing will be done. There will no doubt be some sighing on the long train ride to Chicago. Were I a character in an Poirot mystery I would be described as the melancholy girl with the remnants of a lightening bolt painted on her forehead.