Goddess, I Am.

Who would’ve thought that getting married to a foreign man in this country would be so tricky? It’s an exercise in patience and strategy worthy of Soul Calibur IV on xbox 360. The paperwork alone is enough to give anyone a headache.

I, for one, need an NSO-authenticated birth certificate and something called a CENOMAR (Certificate of No Marriage, which pretty much states that I am, in fact, single). The Fiance, from his side, needs something called a CNI (Certificate of No Impediment, which pretty much states that he is, in fact, single), something that we can only get from the British embassy after paying a whopping £118 in fees (total). As if that’s not bad enough, there’s a 42-day wait! And these are all BEFORE marriage licenses and contracts and certificates and registrations.

Thank heavens I’m not going through the whole mess of planning a big (or even small) wedding party. That’s even more paperwork, waiting, and fees. If I had my way, I’ll elope with Steve tomorrow and ride off into the sunset. Now who says I’m not romantic?

I’ve never been one for frivolous expenses. In fact, I can be quite cheap. Still, there some things in this world that put my self-control to the test, like this:

For the uninitiated, in Book 7 of the Harry Potter series, a very important book figured in the story. JK Rowling actually handmade the damned book. There are only 7 original copies in existence, and one was sold in a Sotheby’s action for a whopping £1,950,000 (that’s pounds sterling, mind you).

Now, as much as I want to shell out almost 2 million quid for a book, I can’t. (Unless, of course, I marry Donald Trump, but I’m not his type. Or invent a cure for eczema.) I can, however, probably, possibly get the mass-produced collector’s edition version.

So the big question is: Do I have it in me to spend $100 on a book that I will probably read three times a year for the rest of my life? I have until the 4th of December to find out.