(no subject)
Elizabeth Hanson. Elizabeth. Hanson. Hanson, Elizabeth. Elizabeth Hanson.
Come on, her name's so goddamn familiar. I know that name.
Bugger.
I've lost count of dates. How many weeks till Christmas?
I've got the bloody Christmas jingle stuck in my head. The one about bells. I hear it sung, whistled. That song's creepy. I'm beginning to feel like the song's possessive. I'm addicted to a goddamn song.
I got a letter from Mom. A reply to the last owl I sent out. The letter began with, 'there was a very interesting article in the Quibbler about a boy named Regulus Black'. In a nutshell, the letter consisted of several questions enquiring about my social life and how well I mix with the opposite sex, plus sentences such as 'it's time you got yourself a girlfriend'. To top it all off, she's planning to revamp my wardrobe as a Christmas present. And she, being a most concerned mother, attached an article from past year magazines about homosexuals.