If you’re reading this column, you’re one of three people in the
South Valley not glued to the new Harry Potter book. Or maybe
you’re a really fast reader and have been reading it since
midnight, and you’re already done.
If you’re reading this column, you’re one of three people in the South Valley not glued to the new Harry Potter book. Or maybe you’re a really fast reader and have been reading it since midnight, and you’re already done.
Or perhaps FedEx hasn’t shown up with your copy yet. But whatever the reason, Harry fever should be at its peak today. Shops will be empty. Parks will be deserted. People will be in their homes, reading.
And I’m no exception.
Look, who can resist a cute little wizard who will save the world? I can’t. Plus, he has magic powers.
Do you know what I would do if I had a magic wand for a day? Trust me, the wand is the best accessory Harry has. Oh sure, there’s that invisibility cloak. It’s cool, but not something I really need – not until Junior is a teenager with a girlfriend and a closed bedroom door.
Of course, there are potions – but I believe they involve cooking and frankly, that’s not my strong suit. And spells are just too easy to forget. With my luck, I’d try to use one and instead of turning my hair blond, I’d make myself bald.
So I’d just settle for a wand.
And I wouldn’t use it for evil, either. Well, not right away. You see, first I’d use it for the good of all mankind – or at least the good of my family. Because I’d use that wand to clean.
OK, sure. Most people would be running through their neighborhoods, turning their foes into toads or something, but not me. No, I’d be cleaning all the stuff I hate to clean.
Take my closet for example. As it stands now, my closet is a mishmash of clothing, shoes and purses. If I had a wand, I’d just wave it in there and poof! All my clothes would march out and separate themselves into piles.
There would be piles of clothes that fit, piles of clothing that used to fit and piles that never fit but were such a good deal that I bought the outfit anyway in the vain hope that a miracle would occur, and I would lose 20 pounds without trying.
And my shoes – oh, my shoes. They’d match themselves up into pairs and leap onto the shoetrees.
And the clothes would follow, hanging themselves up on padded hangers or neatly folding themselves into drawers.
Then I’d move onto the refrigerator. I’d wave that wand and voila! All the icky stuff in the back would come flying out and empty into the trashcan. Then the fridge would scrub itself down and all the food would be organized and labeled in cute little containers so that nothing ever got lost in the back and turned into an alien life form.
Then I’d go for the really hard cleaning. The one that would be a challenge even with a magic wand. The one cleaning job that resists all forms of cleanliness.
Yes, I would use the wand in Junior’s room.
Oh, I know. I know I said that I would use the wand for good, not evil.
And I’m sure that in Harry Potter’s world, making the magic wand clean Junior’s room is probably wand abuse and the Ministry of Magic probably has some sort of really awful punishment for it.
But I’m telling you, it would be worth it. Even if I never got a magic wand again, just seeing my son’s room sparkling clean for the very first time ever would be worth any price that I had to pay.
The Legos would be off the floor and in their containers. The pile of dirty clothes that currently resides UNDER the hamper, instead of IN the hamper, would magically fly into the washing machine and get washed. The socks would match themselves up and levitate into the drawers.
And all the candy that Junior has hidden under his bed would go into the trashcan.
And I’m sure there are tons more things I could clean in Junior’s room with that wand – things I don’t even want to know about. In the meantime, I’ll be reading. And wishing my shoes were in their trees.
