I get to stay home for the day to rest up before the next leg of my book tour (which is all in Texas) so I got to wash clothes and unpack a special new friend.
Victor: What the fuck is that?
me: I wanted something special to remind myself of the book tour and most women buy jewelry, but I don’t like jewelry so instead I bought a tiny ermine. She died of natural causes and is my new best friend.
Victor: What is wrong with you?
me: She’s a very good listener. Her name is “Ermione Granger.” She’s a sassy thing and graduated at the top of her wizarding class. Plus, SHE IS ADORABLE.
Victor: Shit like this never happened while you’re gone.
me: I would have guessed. She’s nice to travel with. We have very comfortable silences together. I love her.
Victor: I suppose she’s still looking for her ethically taxidermied “Ron Weasley”?
me: And this is why we’re married. You get me.
Victor: No, I really, really don’t.
me: Well, then it’s why there’s a stuffed weasel in the bottom of my suitcase.
me: I’m kidding. I didn’t buy a weasel. Could you imagine if I found Ermione AND Ron Weasley in the same week? Honestly, what would the chances be? Astronomical.
Then I pulled out Juanita and realized that technically I did have a weasel in my suitcase all along, but not a male one and I pointed out that she didn’t count because she’s a special guest on my book tour and then Victor pointed out that most authors don’t forget they had a dead weasel in their suitcase and then I pointed out that Juanita is much more than just a dead weasel and that TSA probably got a great deal of excitement out of the deal when they searched my bag and found her in her tiny travel coffin.
Basically I’m bringing joy wherever I go. And I need a new weasel. With red hair.