I had a lousy day at work today. I pulled out The Thin Man at lunch, dropped it on the floor, and the book exploded into five sections. Admittedly, according to my note, the book was purchased in February of 1981 (at the Yakosuka PX, probably), so it's held up for thirty four years and I have no idea how many reads. Still, I can't help feeling like an old friend has passed on...