All I wanted was a bumper sticker. Was that too much to ask?

Don't get me wrong. I hate the actual use of bumper stickers--to tout high religious and political positions in the span of mere seconds while jam-packed on the freeway leaving no freedom for discussion--but you have to admit, there are some really cool ones out there. Some of which I like to hoard, or put on something in my house, or use as a bookmark. (Re: pictures littered through previous post) But apparently our Borders is void of them. I must have waited too long, though working in the cafe almost insures that I have no idea what's going on with the bookselling end of things. (Seriously, we are like an island surrounded by shark-infested waters in this two-level store. Do they even listen to us when we come on the radio?) So I must have missed the window of opportunity for the "Trust Snape"/"Snape is a very bad Man" logos. (Sad, too, because once we all finish the seventh book, those stickers might very well be useless. Or not? How complicated is Rowling's morality anyway? Pretty damn, if you ask what I hope for.)

In my dream world, I would be done with the seventh book by now. I know, I know, that's being pretty hard on myself. Heaven forbid I actually left my apartment to do things yesterday. With people, no less. But I found myself cracking the book open for the first time last night (Saturday) at 9:30 (about 24 hours after hell crashed into earth at work) and only made it to page 100 or so. And this morning (Sunday), I work, always, no matter what, so now I find myself hanging around page 150 thanks to one lunch break and two rides on the Metro.

But I still have the question in my head: Do I want to savor Deathly Hallows or devour? And is there really a difference? Actually, the real reason I want to race to the end is to AVOID AT ALL COSTS the SPOILERS on the internets. Even now, googling images to fit with this post, I'm terrified of running into some horrible thing. Stop that! Must not look for pretty pictures. Must use pictures from the vast amounts stored on my hard drive, instead! Such as:

That one was from a drafted magician-themed post that I started writing after going to see The Prestige and trying to find every David Copperfeld trick I could on Youtube and Myspace. Sigh. That one may never reach the Ultimate Electron Stream.

I'm in a good place, though, right? I'm at the beginning. Rowling's world is welcoming me in, and I am slowly coming back to it with open arms.

But I'm nervous. Not because it will be rubbish. It won't. Trust me. Even if you could predict every twist she made, it's still a story that has power and unravels and folds inward, outward, upward, backward. She's a damn good storyteller. Period. Comprehensive and good. And that's good, right?

I have to say though, shivering on this cusp before I jump in, belly smack, and feel the Wizarding world wash over me like I'm 11 and under the waterfalls in the lazy river, this is the worst artist-rendition of Harry Potter I've ever seen. I mean, Just. Look. At. It.

Ron, too. Just strange. Like they both have futures as American football quarterbacks.