My Horcrux

Last night I was messing around on the computer, attempting to get a Facebook like button on my blog.  You will notice that I was unsuccessful.  I was so engrossed in my project that I didn’t even notice when my DVR’ed show flipped off and Oprah turned on.  Yes, I am anti-Oprah.  Sorry.  If I need an opinion about something, I’ll look in my own head, Oprah.

However, as stated before, I was cursing the motherfucking like button and its stupid complexities and didn’t have time to censor Oprah and all her special opinions.  So, I was frantically emailing all sorts of people asking for help and saw that someone had sent me an email.  YAY!

So I click over to Gmail and Genevieve R. Thompson has written me.  And I was all, “How did I write to myself? Maybe I’m all the help I need.”  And I click on it and see that some lady out there named Genevieve R. Thompson has written me to say “Hello!  We have the same name.”  So I write back and say, “Cool.  My R stands for Rose.  How about you?”

And she writes back that her middle name is also Rose. For serious.

I started freaking out.  I mean, in normal circumstances, my imagination is sort of like a drunk hyperactive child.  So late at night, with Oprah in the background interviewing Linda Evans about what her face looks like without makeup and how brave she is to show us it, and while working on a motherfucking non-cooperative Facebook like button, my imagination at hearing from a Genevieve Rose Thompson elsewhere in the world was like a drunk hyperactive child on crack.

I started going maybe she is my horcrux in the computer.  And that that would mean that I had killed someone and split my soul.  And if I killed someone, I did it unknowingly.  So maybe there are more horcruxes.  And who is controlling me to kill people, and more importantly why? Etc.  It was very thrilling.

So I emailed her back to ask her if she was also watching Oprah.  Because for some reason, I thought this would have been irrefutable proof that she was my horcrux.  But she wrote back to say she was hottubbing.  And I was all “Oh.  Ok.  Good night.”  And then I went to sleep.

I tried to bring back the magic of it all when I told Craig about it over the phone this morning, but it didn’t work.  He was just like “Well. There’s probably more than one other Genevieve R. Thompson out there.  It’s a big world, after all.”  And I was all “Thanks, buzz kill.”