It was my turn to write the "Skinny" column for Wednesday's "Life and Style" section of The Daily Herald. I'd completely forgotten about it until the night before it was due (don't tell my editor!) so I had to quickly come up with something, and here it is:
Harry happens: I vowed I would not let it consume my life. I tried diligently to put it down and walk away, but I am too weak.
This confession is my first step to recovery. I will never let another Harry Potter book control my life -- which I feel safe saying, since I just finished the seventh and final installment of the Harry Potter series.
My sweet husband surprised me with "The Deathly Hallows" the day before my birthday. I casually picked it up and started into the first chapter, forgetting how addicting the works of J.K. Rowling can be.
With much difficulty, I attempted to put the book aside and go about my normal day-to-day tasks, but to no avail.
For the first time in our marriage -- of two whole months now -- we spent a Saturday in silence. Me, with my nose buried in a book, and Jason finally experiencing a day without me pestering him to stop playing "Warcraft."
When Saturday evening rolled around, I had made the journey with Harry through more than half the book and was not ready to stop, but by some unknown power from deep within, I was able to close the book for a few hours to enjoy a birthday outing with aforementioned husband, Jason, only to return and spend a few more hours alongside my favorite fictional friends battling the darker forces.
I finished the book on the afternoon of my birthday, while family members busied themselves with preparing my birthday dinner.
My husband was relieved to see me finally emerge from behind the book and promised me he would never again buy me a book on my birthday -- he'd much rather spend time with me instead.
I guess it's payback time. Jason just started reading "The Deathly Hallows."
I suppose I deserve it.
-- Jessie Evans