Well, I did it again. (Queue Britney Spears, or not
). I managed to buy a copy of a book, then forgot that I bought it.
I ordered China Miéville's This Census Taker
back in October of last year (when it was announced), then promptly forgot all about it.
Having not remembered that I'd already purchased it, I bought it again when Subterranean Press
had their 50% off sale.
You can imagine my confusion when I received a box with two copies of the book, one invoiced at $45, the other at $22.50. My knee-jerk reaction was that they
messed up. But... after a deep breath and the realization that I really like Miéville, I thought it was just as likely (possibly more so) that I was the one who'd erred—and true to form, it was in fact my "mistake."
And here is where you get to see the workings of my tangential mind. As soon as I typed the word "mistake," I had to go look up the definition and the etymology to make sure it was, in fact, the appropriate description. The word, itself, is so laden with baggage, that I didn't want to give the impression of blame or fault (because those words have proven that they are wholly productive members of miscommunication). It's such a funny, yet practical word, "mistake." It comes from Old Norse: mistaka
meaning 'take in error
.' My error, though, was not in the taking so much as it was in the ordering (or desiring) & then forgetting. How human of me.
All that said... I ordered two copies of a book. Honestly, it's not the first time & there are much bigger mistakes that have been or could be made. So, rather than kicking myself for it, I celebrate my wonderful, messy, literature-loving human-ness.
Maybe I'll hold on to both copies, maybe I'll sell one or both down the road, but this is definitely a first world problem, for which I am grateful.