We all make dumb mistakes.
It’s understandable. We’re scheduled to the max. Our brains are on overload. Life pulls us in too many directions.
One of my mother’s favorite phrases when she screwed up was “time to make a reservation for me at the old folks’ home.”
I’ve had one of those weeks.
Preparing to attend the Romantic Times Booklover’s Convention in Atlanta, I actually made a checklist so I wouldn’t forget to pack important items like business cards, bookmarks to give away, and books to sign and sell at the Saturday event for readers.
“Where are my corks?”
The book signing event, in a big ballroom with sixty other authors, is the premiere event and I am signing this year in the tiny space allotted to each of us. My publisher is providing two of the books and I was allowed to bring one of my independently published creations.
If you arrange your books carefully, there’s room to give something away. Because my books are “love in the wine country” I give away those reusable plastic corks that fit nicely in wine bottles. Not that I ever need one. But some people don’t drain the bottle, but actually cork the remainder for the next day. I also give away chocolate.
“Where’s my chocolate?”
I checked the box I take to signings. No corks. No chocolate. No business cards. Posters of my books are there, but they’re too big to take. Bookmarks are new so they were in the box.
Then I remembered. All the corks went into little bags with Hershey’s kisses and my business card (it has my book list on the back) to be given away by my Entangled publisher at the convention. One mystery solved.
New mystery unveiled. The box contained ten books to take to the convention. “But,” I say. “I just packed the ten books to take to the convention. I ordered them late, paid for overnight delivery so they’d arrive on time. What are these?”
Big oops. I efficiently ordered the same books a month ago, tucked them away, and promptly forgot them.
“Make my reservation.”
Remember I said chocolates were missing, too? I KNOW what happened to those.
Oh, dear. I’m afraid this sounds familiar. Maybe we’ll be neighbors…Cheers, F