This is a sad sad tale of a lost, very good book.
I can't find my copy of "The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy" by the late Douglas Adams -- truly one of the best science fiction books ever written. I really do love that book. It's witty, it's intelligent, and best of all, fun. I've gone through everything in my house about forty-two times searching for this book (I felt like reading it).
My copy has been through a lot with me, and has amassed its own list of travels and achievements, although not to the degree of Arthur Dent: Zipping up and down the subways, keeping me sane in the workterms of 1B and 2A. Providing a laugh near midterms and finals of 2A. Keeping my papers from flying off my desk in the warm 2B summer breezes. Clubbing the drunks as they stumble by and knock on our windows at 3 AM.
I don't remember where I last put it. There's a chance I could have lent it to someone, but I'm still going with the theory that it was polymorphed into someone's grandmother and consequently fed to the bugblatter beast of Traal (c'mon, it's the middle of the night, improbability rules).
Yes, I miss my book. If you have it, please let me know. Just that if you choose to let me know at 3 AM, please don't knock on the windows.