I was riding my motorcycle in heavy rains and had a book in my work bag which, as I later found out, doesn't resist water at all, and the book got soaked. Half the pages puffed up, and I hated myself for it at first, but after a while I realized I like it even better since it feels like the book has been through something with me and I will always remember that incident whenever I think about the book.
Though admittedly, caring about this is even more vapid than caring about my books being pristine.
Though admittedly, caring about this is even more vapid than caring about my books being pristine.