*headdesk*
Our household (the upstairs in particular) basically defines "roommate's books" as "library", like all sensible people who have similar tastes in books would do. I was working my way through a series of Kate's books because she said it was good and the cover lauding was from an author we both really enjoyed as well. I found the first two books no problem, but just can't find the third. Life being what it is, her room has certain disaster areas that are basically black holes that will not give up their treasures until she starts packing to move. I decided to re-read a book that I've only read once (being fairly new), with the sequel coming out this summer (good reminder time). I looked through the little bookshelf near the door, which is where she keeps most of her books. When that proved fruitless I looked at the scattered hardcover books on the floor that no longer have jackets, but to no avail. I then whined for a bit about how only the books I want specifically are lost to the ages.
Then CS says, "Wait, what book did were you looking for? That's my mousepad!"
A quick trade of one of the random other hardcover books for the one I wanted to read and things are good again.
Seriously, what the hell.
Then CS says, "Wait, what book did were you looking for? That's my mousepad!"
A quick trade of one of the random other hardcover books for the one I wanted to read and things are good again.
Seriously, what the hell.