So I went to the local Barnes & Noble to try and find a copy of Giraffe. Of course, they didn't have it. 95% of this location is either children's books or non-fiction, so I rarely ever leave with something in a bag.

The customer service desk made the usual pitch to order it, but I declined by explaining that I needed it right away for a book club. She then offered to call the next nearest B&N to find out if they had it. They did.

Excellent.

Books on hold get placed behind the front counter, so I didn't get an opportunity to inspect it before plunking down $14. When I arrived home, I discovered that someone (not me) had gotten the book wet (no liquid in the car). In fact, the back quarter of its pages were damp and still in the process of becoming ripply. Of all the kinds of injuries inflicted on books, nothing gets on my nerves more than water damage.

Dammit.

If the store weren't so far away, I'd have turned around and brought it back. I'm too lazy to drive all the way out there again and am eager to get it started, so I'm going to do my best at ignoring it.

Grin. Bear.