Tuesday, February 01, 2005

If you want to die in bed, forget about your karma

Yesterday, I received in the mail a textbook I'd forgotten I ordered used, off Amazon. This happened to be a textbook I also bought from the university bookstore, last week. So, though resolved to return the nicer, new copy, I put off looking for the receipt until done a number of things before the impending printer's-deadline-of-doom for my new quasi-self-employed job. (Details forthcoming, eventually.) I got around to doing that at 8 last night - only to realize, on finding it, that the last day of returns for new textbooks this term was January 31, and the bookstore closes at 5. I had, thus, planned to head over to campus first thing this morning, to be at the bookstore when they opened at 8:30, and plead with the clerks to give me a break on the return deadline. This required getting up early; my earliest class this term is at 11:30, and I've been waking up around 9 or so. I am, accordingly, very, very tired right now. On heading out the door at 7:55, I picked the textbook out of the stack where it had been sitting, and noticed that there was both a large scuff mark on the front cover and some kind of grease stain on the back (I think one or both may have been there when I bought it, but who'd believe that?) - and, ergo, it would seem to be completely unreturnable, even within the deadline. My point (and I do have one, I think) is that this entire narrative is an excellent example of either irony, or karma. I'm just not sure which.


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