He and I are rarely apart. We go just about everywhere together. But in the library the night before my massively important Arabic exam, I reached into his familiar home in my backpack only to be shocked that he was nowhere to be found. I legitimately broke into a cold sweat and started hyperventilating. Where could he possibly be?
Please believe that I am the most neurotic person of all time. I am acutely, obnoxiously, pathologically aware of everything. The most positive consequence of this neurosis is that I never lose anything--ever. And I mean ever. Thus, I had no fathomable idea of where I could possibly have misplaced him. I ran out of the library and retraced all of my steps--over and over and over again. I interrupted the dress rehearsal of a play in the Varsity Theater to search the aisles for his thick little body three separate times. I checked all the lost-and-founds on campus and asked every night janitor I met if they'd seen him. But as midnight came and went, I realized I'd have to postpone my search (and spend some time studying for the huge exam that, in my frantic state, I'd neglected).
A desperate Facebook e-mail to my friend resulted in my having access to his book the next day, so my loss didn't ruin my exam (on which I think I performed very well, minus one stupid case vowel I realized I'd misplaced minutes after walking out, which I think is going to cost me top-score honors...I'm still bitter) and then resumed my efforts. I would find him or I would...have to order another one and get it next-day-shipped on Amazon. The prospect almost broke my heart. I didn't want another one. I wanted mine.
I was sad Thursday night. I stayed up all night writing a paper on unity and disunity in the political landscape of first-century Syria and I couldn't even take a break to study the new Lesson 8 vocabulary. I kept imagining my poor Al-Kitaab 2 lying somewhere all alone. And I kept imagining my bank account down $150 thanks to having to pay for next-day shipping.
I didn't go to Andrew's class on Friday afternoon because I was accommodating a student who had to take my exam late, but I definitely should have, because it turns out Andrew had my book. Some well-meaning Arabic student had seen it in the classroom, recognized that it was mine, and given it to Andrew to give to me. I zoomed up to that big TA office in the JKB after class and sure enough, there it was, with a big sign on it that said my name. I was so happy--but not as happy as the BYU lost and found will be, because they will no longer have to put up with me calling them every hour, describing my book in great detail, holding my breath as they check, and then being very disappointed when they tell me they don't have it.
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