As I write this I am laying on my living room couch under a tinkerbell comforter wearing my wool booties, over sized pajama pants and long sleeved Grateful Dead tee. I am still freezing to the point that the intensity of my goosebumps is painful. Further solidifying the concerning nature of my current state would be the heating pad under my aching legs that, in spite being adjusted to the highest level of heat it offers, is doing little to warm me or relieve my pain.
So it appears that I am sick. Which only means one thing: Kevin is screwed.
When I'm sick I have a nasty (though I consider it at least equally endearing...but I may be alone on this) habit of regressing in a big way. Cartoons, popsicles, stuffed animals, having meals cooked for me, getting my pillows fluffed and temperature taken, and many more childish requests are required to be filled as a part of my bedside care. As my fiance, best friend, betrothed, and frequent caregiver, these requirements fall upon Kevin to be filled. And of course, he supplies me with all of these services with little question. He is a saint, and I am unspeakably lucky.
Lately, as much as I hate to admit it, I have been a little stressed out by the idea of literature as a whole. I think I have spent so much time reading super critically and analyzing books that it has been a while since I took the time to enjoy literature from the perspective of the average reader. This perspective is a very important one to me. I never want to lose the feeling books give me so that I don't forget why I fell in love with literature in the first place...its that feeling that I ultimately would like to give my readers one day.
So on account of my illness and childlike tendencies, I have decided to finally reread the entire Harry Potter series. However, do expect some Harry Potter themed blogs, as I doubt I'll be able to keep from analyzing what I'm reading for too long. God, I don't know why anyone finds me interesting, but I'm so glad they do.
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