If you're a Harry Potter fan, you've been anxiously awaiting the opening of Pottermore. I tried desperately to get in on the ground floor and be a part of the beta testing, but apparently you needed to quit your job and sit in front of your computer, eyelids propped open with toothpicks so as not to miss the .1285 second opportunity Ms. Rowling gave her adoring fans to get in. Needless to say, I have a house and kitty-mouths to feed, so I had to give up and wait until I could get in with the rest of the unwashed Muggle masses.
After many false starts, I almost peed myself with excitement when I got the official word yesterday afternoon... Pottermore is a go! I obsessively refreshed my Gmail account every 13 seconds, awaiting the two verification emails needed to finally be granted access.
And there it was... I was finally in! And the user name that was selected for me had the word "pumpkin" in it... so I figured it was meant to be and that Pottermore would be the greatest experience of my young (SHUT IT!) life.
I was bouncing up and down on my couch (much to the confusion and concern of Husband) as I was guided through the chapters of Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone... being gifted with amazing extra information from J.K. Rowling herself. My wand picked me (a lovely, very bendy 13 3/4 inch cherry wood wand with a core of unicorn hair), I purchased the rest of the supplies needed for my first year at Hogwarts... and then came the moment I had been waiting for since approximately this time last year... it was time to don The Sorting Hat.
I will admit, my first house pick would've been Ravenclaw. I know everyone wants Gryffindor (so they can become homies with Harry, Ron and Hermione), but I'm not sure I consider myself especially courageous. I wasn't quite confident of my intelligence (the main unique quality in Ravenclaws), but was hoping I could cheat off of the other brilliant Ravenclaws and kind of fake my way through it. My least wanted house was a toss-up between Hufflepuff (niceness... ICK!) and Slytherin (for obvious reasons).
I put The Sorting Hat on my head... and that little fucker totally screwed me over.
Husband proceeded to tell me I was going to Hell, my friend Lauren pointed out that we're now enemies (as she was sorted into Gryffindor last year)... and I held back tears. Thirty-one year old tears... about to be spilled over a fictional sorting into a fictional house within a fictional school.
Is there a fifth house where they place the eternally pathetic?