July 31, 2003 - 7:41 p.m.

In preparation for the fifth Harry Potter book that I am to borrow from a friend next week, I have been reading books one through four again. I am torn between complete awe of the entire world J.K. Rowling has developed, and total jealously that I did not think of it first. Despite the fact that the books are extremely easy to read (being for children) I still find myself absorbing every word over and over again, totally entranced. The first time I read "Goblet of Fire", I picked it up for a bit of "light reading" before bed, and finished the whole fucking book before I realized I had to get in the shower or I would be late for work. The singular problem with being such an enormous HP fan, is that I find myself forgetting that I am not magical.

I spent several minutes this afternoon trying to perform the Cruciatus Curse on an elderly customer who was being quite rude at the counter. I just wanted to see him rip his own fucking arthritic arms off and have his howls of pain muted by something more powerful than the insults he shouted at the innocent cashiers. That would've been funny. I could have spent more time trying, had it not been for The Boss rudely interupting my fantasy, "If you are looking for something to do...." and shoving an inch thick pile of paperwork up my nostrils.

The Panic has hit me. I am so terrified now that I have given up my apartment and job, that soemthing will fall through with the house, leaving me homeless and unemployed. Not entirely unlike a mutual aquaintance of Dan and myself who spends most of her greasy existence in between shelters and beds of toothless men. Rumor has it, she has actually maintained a fascinating career a Vista Foods for a whole week now. Fucking miracle. Spoke with Liz several times today, who assured me she was in possession of house keys and Dan has already begun to move his shit in.

That part bothers me. The thing with Dan is that he has terrible taste when it comes to decorating, and if he is moving in first, there may be unfixable damage to our studio apartment. He just does not understand. I swear, if I find he has stapled fabric to the walls or purchased any form of animal print anything, I will personally see to it that he can not develop an erection for several years. He is definitely the type who believes that plastic ivy hanging from the ceiling looks good.

Might need to pick up some liquor before I head over and inspect the damage. It will help dull the pain.

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