At last I have finished the final installment of the meteoric Harry Potter septilogy.  It took me an obscene six days to finish it.  Now some people like to take their time over a "good" book, savor the language, relish the interplay of verbage, yada yada.  Cram it through, that's my school of thought.  Read it start to finish, and savor it once it's all there to process at once.

Normally.

Under the circumstances, however, what with a long weekend at work, I was forced to consume Deathly Hallows at an inconceivable 10-minutes-to-bolt-my-food-and-read-as-much-as-I-can pace, interspersed with seemingly endless hours of dreary Work in between.  It was agonizing, except that for a change I got to process a book as I went.  Anticipating.  Speculating.  It gave me time to really analyse potentialities, which is not something I usually take the time to do.

I hated it.

Not the book; that was fantastic.  But the slow pace was excruciating.  That was the main reason I wanted to wait until I had a couple of solid, free days available to read it cover-to-cover before actually starting it, but then Lori got a copy, and mine came in at the library, and, well, one thing led to another.

But now I'm finished, and I'm not upset anymore, because in the same six days, I also got to pick blackberries, play outside with my son, have company for dinner, and even sleep.

Sleep, and Finishing A Good Book, I find, are normally two mutually exclusive activities.  But sleep is just so darn awesome.  And even a good book can sometimes wait till morning.