I was pretty pleased with myself. I found a copy of The Girl Who Played with Fire for the rock-bottom price of $2.99. It would perfectly complement the copies of The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo and The Girl who Kicked the Hornets’ Nest. I was sure it would look great right between them on the shelf.
For those of you unaware of the Stieg Larsson series, the book I bought, that was the second book in the trilogy.
At one point, prior to my purchase, we had all three of them. The second went walking, before I got the chance to read it. It’s been gone at least 6 months, so I figured the grieving period is over, and I might as well purchase when the option of a low-priced purchase arises. We had established that no-one in the house had lent it, or brought it somewhere with them. It was last seen… with the other books, on the book shelf. It just… went away.
Within an hour of arriving home and proudly showing the family the sheer genius of I, the purchase of a replacement second-book… I found the original copy, the one that has been missing for 6 months or more. It was sitting on the book-shelf in Doodle’s room, the same Doodle who has not yet read any part of the series, and has no interest in reading it. Or, for that matter, moving the second book into her room.
Murphy: 1, My Sanity: 0.