A while ago I got into a definitely frenzy because I lost a paperback. It wasn’t even a particular favorite. It was simply one I knew I had and suddenly couldn’t locate. It was the third and final book in a trilogy that I had this urge to reread.
I couldn’t find it and I hunted this house over trying, let me tell you.
The absolute agony. Not mine. Mark’s and Amy’s. Because I drove them nuts there for a day or so accusing them of somehow losing said book within their possessions.
Then I forgot about it for another while until I was lying back on the bed the other day and looked up at the second or so shelf of the bookshelf beside my bed – the same bookshelf that I’d checked, I don’t know, ten or more times already – and the first book I spotted was THE book, just sitting there, out of order, staring at me, waiting to be found.
Yeah, it can only happen to one of us. Whatever. I know I’m not that blind but I’m really beginning to wonder, you know.
Oh, yeah, the book was The Irish Knight by Amy J. Fetzer. I wanted to reread it because it has a cameo Robin Hood reference in it and I’m in a Robin Hood mood lately. More on that in later posts. (First one to quess why gets a gold star. :D)
And I still haven’t reread the thing. It’s on my beside table, though, where it’s going to stay until I’m in the mood to do so. That much I can assure you. ;p