One of my favorite daughters bought me a BAM gift card for Christmas. No, it's not a new gun club in town, it's Books-A-Million, which replaced Borders when it went south. So Saturday I purchased three books.
At home, I put the books in my library (storage room, spare bed room, greenhouse, with a piano to pile to things on). And, lo and behold, I discovered I already had one of the books. It was a John Sandford "Prey" book. I have about 30 of them and, if you aren't familiar with them, they all have "Prey" in the title: Easy Prey, Winter Prey, Night Prey, you get it. So it's understandable, right?
It's not like I bought another copy of Huckleberry Finn and then went: Dang, I already have this one. But if there were Raspberry Finn, Strawberry Finn, Elderberry Finn and 25 others, it could easily happen. Right?
The thing is, at the store, I allowed for the fact that there were only 3 or 4 Prey books I don't have and many more that I had read, so was very diligent in reading the dust jacket. Nope, nothing sounded familiar. I even read the first paragraph to see if that rang a bell. It didn't.
So I got home and there it was. Smack dab on the shelf in front of me. It's like renting movies you've already rented (back when people actually did that), and I've done that too.
Getting old sucks.
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