I wasn't kidding about my mom making my brother and I stand in front of the door to the basement before any "important event" in our lives. Obviously, dressing up as Harry Potter for the release of the last book is a very significant moment in the life of any young boy.

Let it be noted, in all fairness, that he works at a bookstore and was asked to dress up like this. However, he's the one who went overboard and ordered the official Harry Potter sweater and necktie and nonsense. (Too bad he couldn't find any decent eyeglasses, though.)

Tomorrow, I go in for my first "second interview." We'll see if that warrants another Obligatory Door Picture.

Everyone has at least one irrational fear. Even the most logical of people can be afraid of black cats and spilt salt, and Jack Bauer has probably been scared at least once after catching a glimpse of his kick-ass self in the mirror.

That being said, I still can't stop from cringing when I think about my own secret fears. Like a tornado ripping out the walls and ceiling of the bathroom while I'm showering.

One of those fears grows exponentially with each passing year, and it's the one I'll be facing head-on Thursday morning.

You see, I'm going to be twenty-two years old in two weeks, and I have never attended a funeral. Nobody close to me has ever died. Although I'm really grateful to have lived with so little grief in my life, I have this nagging feeling that it's just the result of some unfortunate glitch in the system. One day, the glitch will be fixed, and I will be standing among my loved ones as they all drop dead at the exact same moment.

This was all I could think about when one of my pastors called yesterday to ask me if I would play piano for a memorial service on Thursday. I heard myself accept the offer, and my mind was immediately flooded with questions. What will it be like? What do I say? How do I act? What do I wear? And then my brain made some sputtering noises and flickered a bit before shutting down completely.

Meanwhile, something keeps jabbing the side of my head, telling me that, while I'm showering in a tornado, Jack Bauer will come riding by on a giant black cat to kill my loved ones by spilling salt on their heads. So do me a favor, friends and family, and promise me you'll stay away from figments of my imagination, alright? Thanks.

Things I found in the course of cleaning out my desk drawers:

• Two staplers. Not sure why.
• Four identical name tags from my days at Office Depot. I forgot them at home a lot.
• Four Hershey's bar wrappers.
• Two "fun-sized" candy bars of unknown origin. Presumably, they are part of my "emergency stash."
• Enough Post-It notes to mark every container of deli meat in the country.
• A receipt with the words "kikari takaramono" written on the back.
• A piece of hardware somehow linked to a piece of IKEA furniture.
• A ceramic bowl from my first year of college. Back before I started splurging on disposable bowls.
• Make-up that I must have shoved in the back of my drawer in June when strangers were last in my bedroom.
• Claritin that surprisingly doesn't expire until next year. I cannot remember the last time I bought Claritin.
• A certification card from the American Red Cross saying that I had passed the first level of swimming lessons. In June of 1997.
• Two leather daily planners. One Lord of the Rings-themed daily planner.
• A kick-ass watch with Patrick Star on the front. Probably from a cereal box, where all the best watches are born.
• A blueprint I copied from the local newspaper to use in The Sims.
• A Hotwheels car.
• Every item from Office Depot's catalogue.