Powell's Books called me today. They have my Palm. The man said it was in their "clearout" pile of lost and found items. That is, items that had sat unclaimed for 30 days. He said the battery is low so it took some work to get my contact information.

I'm fuckin' amazed that no one pinched it.

That's what I thought had happened: I thought I left it somewhere and someone just reached out, said, "Huh," and lifted it.

Good ole Portland.

…

I know what happened now. It must have been DK's birthday. We stopped there on the way back to Seattle, after getting a chocolate gingerbread milkshake at Moonstruck. I bought a few books. I keep a wishlist of books on my Palm. I probably had it out while I was browsing.

Yeah, I remember now: It was 20 minutes to closing, or some insane time like that, and we had parked in the Powell's lot. The parking attendant said that if we were not back at closing time, the car would be locked in for the night.

Twenty minutes from closing.

I had the Palm out, dashing from letter to letter, looking for books.

I probably left it on one of the shelves, as I tend to decorate them with whatever is in my hands while I look at a book. Maybe I left the parking ticket there, too. That was lost also and I had to show the parking attendent my receipt and recite that the checkout person said it was OK to do that.

Man, but that is some sweet news for a dreary Saturday.