A couple of minutes ago I was in the shed (at 11.30 at night, not my best idea) trying to find the books I wanted to donate to the apparating library. I found 20 and came back into the house carrying them stacked on top of one another in a big pile. My mum rushed over panicking and tried to take them off me, scared I’d hurt myself. I smiled, told her I was just taking them to my room, and started up the stairs. When I was about halfway up she called my name and I turned around, still holding all the books in my arms. And she said “this is how I’ll remember you” and I said “this is how I’d want to be remembered” and we smiled a little at each other before I carried on into my room. I think that we just had really important moment.
Last night I dreamt that Melissa Anelli put me in a headlock before throwing me through a glass door for not bringing my wheelchair or my medical aid’s confirmation email to Leakycon and now it’s top of my packing list.
Death by Melissa is so not fun.