Waiting

I am waiting for some books to come for me.
Stefanie Japel's Fitted Knits and Alice Starmore's Celtic Collection.
And I'm waiting for some yarn as well.
I have the day off. Much, much needed, and in spite of the long to-do list, I have done nothing but read Le Carré, finish the bottom border on Elizabeth and gaze at the cats.
And a bit of wondering.
I have, of course, pre-ordered the last Potter. From my favourite book store Arnold Busck.
Mostly because of my expectation that instead of being open very, very late Friday night, they would open very, very early Saturday morning.
Just like the last time a new Potter arrived.
In my mid-thirties I feel just a tad too old to stand in line in a book store past midnight. Besides I badly need my beauty sleep, even if it may be too late for that.
And I loved the quiet early Saturday in the inner city paired with the giddy excitement of carrying the book home.
And then spending all Saturday reading it. In bed. With cats snoozing and a pile of biscuits, only taking a break to make tea and send non-reading friend an sms per chapter with a brief recap.
Not going to sleep until I was done.
But they've decided to do like the rest of them and open the store midnight to 2, and then open as usually at 10 on Saturday.
So now I'll be standing in line with all the kids at midnight.
In 2 weeks and a few hours.
There is no way I would be able to wait those extra ten hours!
Eight hours, yes - ten hours, no!
I'm stupid.
And waiting.
And wondering if it comes in a nice paper bag again.