A spell has been cast on my transit commute by the final book of the Harry Potter series. I doubt I will raise my nose far enough out of the pages while riding to and from work to notice anything worth commenting on. As a result, it may be a day or two before I post again.
Eventually, I will explain how I met Harry Potter.
UPDATE: The noise I originally put in the book slapped me in the face. I put my nose back in the book, embarrassed. And if this all leaves you confused, you are probably not alone. I'm more than puzzled by the fact that I am unable, no matter how hard I try, to write a simple sentence without some glaring typo hiding until after publication and then biting me.
1 comment:
In a previous lifetime I would sit in front of the TV and macrame. (I was probably also stoned, but that's not relevant here.) Anyway, somewhere during that lifetime I learned that American Indian artisans, at least certain bead workers among them, deliberately made one mistake in each artwork in order to allow the evil spirits a means of escape.
No evil spirits held here.
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