Over Christmas break, the fam undertook the nearly overwhelming project of sorting out all our books. I’m not what our final count was, but I know the Excel document was running at 150+ pages of titles. Family projects = INSANITY.
But we finally (mostly) got it finished with 7-8 boxes of duplicates/cast offs left over that Lauren has been selling on Amazon.com.
One of her books was returned in the mail a couple days ago looking like this:
As you can see, it was plastered from top to bottom in Nutcracker and Native American art stamps (and thus obviously not insufficient in postage), so I was curious as to why it was returned.
You might not be able to read it, but the hand-written note in the lower corner says, “Refused. Must come direct from online bookstore or publisher.”
“That’s weird,” I thought. Then I took a closer look at the address. Santa Rita Jail. Suddenly that battered package seemed so sad. Some poor inmate was just trying to save a couple bucks on some reading material, but no such luck. I felt really bad.
Noticing that the corner was ripped, I peeked inside to see what he’d hoped to read. Harry Potter Book and the Goblet of Fire.
Wouldn’t it have been ironic if it was Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban?
And this is why I am a terrible person.