My Grandparents bought me The Princess Bride for Noël. I have been devouring it in my procrastination moments as I pack. It is slowly creeping into my top five novels of ever. Heck. Who am I kidding. It already did.
That's why it's coming with me.
One more day till I see my best friend.
There's a small brown leather suitcase on my bedroom floor. It is stuffed with frilly, pastel coloured shirts, scarves, knitted mittens, and big, coin-shaped earrings. We (Mandy, Jenn, and I) head off to Seattle on Wednesday. Then to Kirstie's that night.
I am dragging too many pillows and a very large box of gifts with me. We're having a second Christmas there.
Also, I have decided that unless I screenprint myself a "Westley Never Dies" tee shirt, I actually might die.
I think the reason I love William Goldman so much is because he is such a great liar and it actually makes me believe that he could just be telling the whole truth in the end. Maybe Westley was real. I could believe that.
Or maybe I am obsessed.
I'm going to read excerpts of it to Kirsten at night before bed. The best parts of course. I better go procrastinate some more and bookmark them.
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