Percy in grammar crisis!
My mental picture of Percy has just been irrevocably shattered.
I am lying here on my stomach in our lovely if slightly over-the-top canopy bed, with the laptop in front of me, pretending to be working on editing my HD_hols fic so that it includes more, you know, H/D, but really reading my flist. imogenelovelace is using the small of my back as a pillow while rereading GoF, but also contemplating why the tummy bits of our Persian cat get furry faster than the rest of her when really, they're the bits that should stay hairless longer in order to make the traumatic shaving process less frequent. (Perhaps it's because she exposes The Tummy Which Shall Never Be Brushed Upon Pain of Death And Not Her Own to the world so much: right now she's in her usual upside-down doughnut configuration... where "she" is the cat, not the wife.) It's all very cozy and exactly what 2 am should look like.
But then, my dear resident Grammar Goddess shatters the domestic idyll with the following bombshell:
"Well, I certainly don't," said Percy, sanctimoniously. "I shudder to think what the state of my in-tray would be if I was away from work for five days."
ACK IMPROPER LACK OF SUBJUNCTIVE OH PERCY MY BOY WHAT HAS SHE DONE TO YOU?!?! (... where "she" is J.K.R.)
Please someone tell me that this is J.K.R. and not Percy. I am dying. And if I am dying, when I am capable of such horrible sins against grammar as the above sentence and the second paragraph, it is dire indeed.
Dear new friends: I am going to do a proper introduction post eventually. In the meantime, I promise I am not always this spastic, honestly.
ETA: This is the worse mood theme ever, if that's the yellow smiley face's idea of shocked. My own face is more like O.o with flaily hands for emphasis.
I am lying here on my stomach in our lovely if slightly over-the-top canopy bed, with the laptop in front of me, pretending to be working on editing my HD_hols fic so that it includes more, you know, H/D, but really reading my flist. imogenelovelace is using the small of my back as a pillow while rereading GoF, but also contemplating why the tummy bits of our Persian cat get furry faster than the rest of her when really, they're the bits that should stay hairless longer in order to make the traumatic shaving process less frequent. (Perhaps it's because she exposes The Tummy Which Shall Never Be Brushed Upon Pain of Death And Not Her Own to the world so much: right now she's in her usual upside-down doughnut configuration... where "she" is the cat, not the wife.) It's all very cozy and exactly what 2 am should look like.
But then, my dear resident Grammar Goddess shatters the domestic idyll with the following bombshell:
"Well, I certainly don't," said Percy, sanctimoniously. "I shudder to think what the state of my in-tray would be if I was away from work for five days."
ACK IMPROPER LACK OF SUBJUNCTIVE OH PERCY MY BOY WHAT HAS SHE DONE TO YOU?!?! (... where "she" is J.K.R.)
Please someone tell me that this is J.K.R. and not Percy. I am dying. And if I am dying, when I am capable of such horrible sins against grammar as the above sentence and the second paragraph, it is dire indeed.
Dear new friends: I am going to do a proper introduction post eventually. In the meantime, I promise I am not always this spastic, honestly.
ETA: This is the worse mood theme ever, if that's the yellow smiley face's idea of shocked. My own face is more like O.o with flaily hands for emphasis.