potterstinks: No subject.

Evidently, someone feels it appropriate for the sun to consume our lives. We have nearly eighteen hours of daylight now. Millicent, however, has whinged about this enough for the entire world.

Speaking of Millicent, she and I have decided to have a Sleep Duel. Starting this morning, we're going to see who can stay awake the longest. It's already been over eight hours, and I show no sign of napping. Millicent's going to lose, as I have a great deal of patience. Besides which, I've been up for over twenty-four hours before, and I can't imagine Millicent can claim the same. Sometimes I'm surprised that Millicent manages to stay awake for six hours.

Continuing on the Millicent train of thought, last week she gave my broomstick to Potter. Apparently, she thought it would be hysterical to force me to get it from him. This is no better than petty thievery, yet Professor Sinistra was rather uncaring when I informed her. I had to go all the way to the library, past the life-threatening librarian, past the Ravenclaws snapping at me for walking too loudly, and then I had to attempt to find Potter. Because, of course, he could not inform me where in the library. Since it's so large, he naturally thought it would be more interesting if I had to search for him.

Where was he? In the letter 'P' section. Of course. Where else would one look for 'Potter'? I can't decide if this was intentional on Potter's part, but when I told him it was a stupid joke, he seemed confused. That's inconclusive, actually, since I'm not quite sure he would even understand his own joke. Then again, it seems unlikely that Potter would go to the trouble of such a joke, since he's rarely intentionally funny.

In any case, two nights ago I discovered that my dressing gown was missing. I assume you're wondering where it was. Where was it, indeed? Potter had it. How did Potter get it? Millicent gave it to him. Why did Millicent give it to him? Because Millicent is Satan. Potter, at least, had the decency to seem unhappy about the whole affair when I retrieved it, but I've no doubt he was in on Millicent's cunning plan, despite his protests to the contrary.

The moral of this story is that this is getting ridiculous, Millicent is the bane of my existence and I've scheduled a conference with Potter for tomorrow evening after dinner. Of course, by that time I'll have been awake for about thirty-six hours, so if I'm not at my personal best, I can hardly be faulted. In fact, if I'm monosyllabic, I can hardly be faulted for that, either.

Since I have plenty of time on my hands, I think I shall spend the evening reorganising my trunk. Perhaps I'll thumb through Nott's copy of The Muggle and the Duel, since that seems to be what he's reading now. Honestly, why must we have fiction about Muggles? How boring. Ever since Nott's moved back into our dormitory, there's been nothing but trouble. He leaves books steepled all over the place, he's certainly not a team player and he won't stop talking about the time that he switched McGonagall's robes to pink and she never found out it was him. Oh, I likely shouldn't have said that here. I suppose, however, that Nott at least makes acceptable conversation.

I burnt the roof of my mouth at dinner and I can feel the skin hanging off. It's disgusting. I feel compelled to cut it off with a tiny pair of scissors, but I imagine that wouldn't work. Much like being unable to put ice water directly into my veins, I once again find myself thwarted by the unfairness of the human body.

deanthomas @ 2004-05-27 11:58 pm UTC

I can't believe I am agreeing with you on something.

potterstinks @ 2004-05-28 12:03 am UTC

How engaging of you, managing to avoid mentioning what it is that we agree upon. I shall assume you're referring to the fact that Millicent is the bane of my existence.