I repeat myself ad nauseaum: I'm a daydreamer. I guess I repeat it so often because I've come to believe it's my defining characteristic. It always was, but now as an adult I'm self-aware so I can see it clearly.
I ask myself, how much daydreaming is too much daydreaming? When has a girl's fantasy life become just a wee little bit too vivid?
I'm not sure it really matters, in a way, because I can't seem to stop myself. But I'm wondering just academically whether I spend too much time engaged in it. I guess I already know the answer to the question. But in a sort of masochistic truth exercise, a healing confessional, let me admit to the following misdeeds committed during episodes of Living while Daydreaming (which should probably be, in the High Home Court, a prosecutable offense akin to Driving while Intoxicated)
1. (I've mentioned this before, but as it's grievous, I'll repeat it) While engaged in a romantic moment with Sarge, he asks "Am I interrupting something?"
2. I hear Hedgie's voice, coming in as if from a very great distance, "Mama....mama....mama....mama....MAMA....MAMA!!!!!....why do you have that funny smile on your face?"
3. I drop Hedgie off at school, and on the way home pay Snape a visit in his dungeons...I arrive home at my real life door to my house, cart full of groceries, with no memory of how I got there. No memory of the market, the walk, not even a memory of fishing around in my purse for the keys. (See, it's almost like Dissociative Identity Disorder, but much more fun).
4. Just as Sarge and I have "our song" ("Misty Morning, Albert Bridge" by the Pogues) so too do Severus and I have a song (okay, I'll admit it, because it's just you and me here--it's "Just Like Heaven" by The Cure. But even more tellingly revealing of my delusion, I just know that he would find that completely distasteful, because he thinks our song is "Some Kinda Love" by the Velvet Underground. Because he would never be so maudlin. And because he's S&M like that. Plus, of course, dark-ish wizards love the Velvets, don'tcha know).
5. I've worked out a kink in the space-time-fiction-reality continuum that allows for these fantasies.
6. Just as I have to budget time for my workout at the Y, so too must I budget time for daydreaming. And which do you think gets short shrift? Although to be frank, I can multi-task at my workout.
7. I'm crocheting myself a pair of black lace above-the-elbow fingerless gloves...and let's just say that I don't plan on wearing them to any occasion in this world...
8. I've burnt the dinner more than twice and I'm really a good cook...yes, that was me standing at the stove gazing off into the distance long past the ringing of the kitchen timer...
9. And then there's THIS.
I won't even continue. It's just much too obvious that the jury's back on this one.
And now I must leave you to return my full attention to the Potions Master--I've been neglecting him of late, and he's getting itchy from his long lonely hours in the dungeons--I leave you to ponder the question that's really on my mind, though: can a Jewish girl from Brooklyn and a testy dead fictional British wizard with a penchant for the Dark Arts ever really have a chance at happiness?
And if you read through this, knowing that I'm completely sober as I wrote it, and you still respect me in the morning, well, God bless.