This man's a pimp:

Now being 270-odd pages into Goblet of Fire, I heartily retract any earlier, rash statements about it being in jeopardy of being eclipsed by Phoenix for my favourite of the lot. This book is cozy and excellent and I loves it. It has dragons and Rita Skeeter and SPEW and ferret Malfoy and blast-ended skrewts and Victor Krum and "There was much less laughter, and a lot more hanging around in the library, when Hermione was your best friend." And on top of that it also has the best last line of anything ever: "Whatever would come would come, and he would have to meet it when it did." OK, awkward phrasing I admit, but if that ain't the whole enchillada (especially these days), I don't know from what.

Movie still sucks, but what are you gonna do.

So as of now I am finally aiming myself condo-wise. In direct contradiction to that, however, there is also the outside chance that by this time next year I will have left the city for grander adventures. And I am seriously stumping for Dominica for Christmas. Surely one of these is a stress response, but we'll leave it to time to sort that out.