I'm a very absent-minded person. Sometimes because I'm making up stories in my head, sometimes because I'm walking around with a book in my left hand, trying to clean the house and cook dinner with my right. I've been known to throw a used tissue in the hamper instead of the garbage, and put the cereal in the fridge and the milk in the pantry. Usually I realize that this has happened a minute or two later and recitify the situation. Then last night I was looking for the book I'm currently reading (Bride of the Rat God by Barbara Hambly). I looked in every room of the house. I checked between the sofa cushions and pillows on the bed. I looked at the bookcases, because I had been shelving a recent purchase earlier. Then I started to check drawers and closets, thinking that if I hadn't done something weird, my toddler might have. No book. Frustrated that I was 200 pages into a thrilling tale of mystery and ancient Chinese curses and couldn't find it, I grabbed my recent acquisition (Seeing Redd by Frank Beddor) to read as I brushed my teeth and got ready for bed. This morning I began the search anew, asking Boy "Where is Mommy's book?", checking the fridge and the hamper. My husband came in and said, "Did you put it in the trash?" I had actually checked in the recycling bin already, because I last remember seeing it under a pile of plastic grocery bags. I pulled out the kitchen garbage (into which I had already glanced once), and began to sift through icky things like greasy wrappers and bits of tomato. And there, under some juicy, juicy strawberry tops, was Bride of the Rat God! Chinese curse? Perhaps. Absent-mindedness? Perhaps. But I actually suspect my snickering husband of this episode. You see, the book was folded into the empty bag of dog kibble which had previously been lying near the book on the counter as a reminder to buy more. And all things kibble-related are Hubby's responsibility. . . . Hmmmm. The book is only slightly the worse for wear: it was bought used anyway, and now sports a hint of strawberry red on the top, adding a certain menace to the lurid cover. But the question remains, which of us threw away a perfectly good book?