Remember, oh, two posts ago when I kvetched about not being able to find Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire on my bookshelf, even though I was sure I owned it? How it’s been missing for weeks and weeks and ultimately led to my desperately seeking out the book on tape version last Monday night?

Well, I thoroughly enjoyed the book on tape version. It made the hours in the car much more entertaining. Having a few discs left to listen to yesterday, I happily spent most of Sunday curled up in my bed listening until the end of The Goblet of Fire. When Jim Dale (the nice man who read me my story) read the last word, I smiled a satisfied smile and then reached for book 5, Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix.

The spine of the book creaked a little when I opened it and I happily sniffed in the bookish smell. Audio books are fine, but real books are much, much better. My smile turned to a bit of a puzzled frown, however, as my eyes slipped over the first few sentences of the opening chapter. It seemed oddly familiar… I’d read this book once before, of course, but these sentences seemed freshly familiar. I snapped the book shut and looked at the cover. Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix. Yes, that was right. I flipped back to the opening page… no, this wasn’t right at all. A thought pricked in the back of my mind and realization slowly crept over me. I slowly peeled the book jacket off my book and immediately felt like slamming my head against its hard cover.

There it was.
The Goblet of Fire.

Somehow, who knows when, I’d placed the wrong book cover on the wrong book. Somehow I never  noticed that I suddenly had two copies Order of Phoenix and no Goblet of Fire.

All these weeks that dang book has been sitting on that dang bookshelf right next to me. And now that I’m done with it, I’ve gone and found it.

I’m glad I finally found it, but…

I.
am.
an idiot.

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