Yesterday we went to Costco to escape a smell (the theme of my week could best be summed up in the musical I am currently writing: The World Smells - and It Hates Me), and they had The Tale of Beedle Bard by J.K. Rowling, sitting amongst their stacks of books. I was pretty happy, since I was going to pick it up for SisterK for Christmas, and it was a couple of bucks cheaper than Amazon. So I scooped one up and then entertained Lil Girl while Mum stood in line (it was a short line, but Lil Girl had reached the end of her patience and Pull Up by then). When she finally gets through, they told her that she couldn't buy it.
Turns out they were not supposed to put it out until today, and would get fined $10,000 if they sold it to us that extra day early.
I have to say that I only sort of wanted it until they told us we couldn't have it, and then I really, really wanted it. I also might have muttered something under my breath about how they would have to pay the $10,000 not me, and how maybe I didn't think that looked like such a bad deal to me. But I just let it go. But for those 10 seconds there, I was like "MINE!"
(Also: I don't like the term Indian Givers - unless it applies to the people who gave things to the Indians, and it doesn't - but I couldn't think of what else to call it... any suggestions?)