I previously wrote about my immense shame after losing a library book. If you care about my moral floundering, check it out here.
I wasn’t completely honest in the post. The book is indeed a book of Grimms’ fairy tales, but what I neglected to mention was that it is in fact an edition from 1945. We’re talking so old, the copyright date is in roman numerals. Plus it has some gorgeous color illustrations. It’s not like I misplaced a copy of The Girls. This book can’t exactly be reordered off of Amazon.
But I found it!
Well, rather, it was found. It turns out that my boyfriend’s grandmother had picked it up, assuming someone had thrown it out, and had been storing it this whole time. And what a relief, because I got the “lost book” notification from the library, and the fine was $150. No way. I had the boy ask everyone in his family who uses the infamous car in which I left it if they had picked it up. My money was on the little cousin, who wouldn’t have read it anyway.
As it turns out, if I return the item, the fee is wavered. Which only means that I have to get on down to the library and slip this baby into the return slot. I don’t even need to go into the library and show my shamed, shamed face. So basically, I’m one lucky ducky.
Plus I found the bookmark that I thought had been in it (another one shamelessly copied from Pinterest). So all things considered, I’m cool.