It’s Harry Potter week or something. First we were treated to a first preview of the movie, and yesterday, of course, was Harry’s (and Rowling’s) birthday. Today? Today I woke up to this in my inbox:
But wait! Look here! I know what The Husband better be buying me for Christmas. That is if he doesn’t want me to hit him in the head with a stocking full of candy (his candy, why waste mine?).
EEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!
I feel kind of bad for the people who got Rowling’s hand-written copies which were supposed to be exclusive to those friends of hers. But not so bad I won’t read it.
