But at least this time, it wasn't entirely my fault.
The friend who planned to go with me to the book signing Sunday snuggled her adorable grandkids a bit too much, and caught the deadly, contagious, snot-and-cough-producing virus the little germbags carried.
Ever intrepid, I figured I'd go anyway, and made my way to the Brookfield location of the bookshop. Parking spaces were available, but that didn't surprise me; I had deliberately waited until closer to the end of the signing to arrive, for just that reason.
The bookshop is locally owned and has been in business for eighty years. They've managed to avoid succumbing to the pressure from Barnes & Noble, Borders and Amazon by becoming the bookstore for the (self-perceived) intelligentsia. In all fairness, they fill a niche, just not one I'm comfortable in (the cheap, egalitarian, easily intimidated introvert that I am).
In the door. Odd, no signs regarding the author's appearance. Even stranger, not many people in the store. Wander around a bit. Find the restrooms, but no book signing. Discover another of my favorite authors will be at the shop in April. Wander around some more, confused.
It turns out that Ms. Jackson's signing was moved to the Mequon location - easily a half hour drive from where I was. Silly me - I had assumed the information the bookshop had given Ms. Jackson to post on her website was correct. It never occurred to me to check the shop website. ::snark:: After all, it's the shop I'm really excited about seeing, not the author. ::/snark::
Sigh. Back into the car. At least I could make use of the trip out - I could stop and (finally) have my hair trimmed. Onto the road, back into West Allis, I pulled up in front of the hair cut place twenty minutes later.
Five minutes after they closed.
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