So once, as an adorable and precocious child, I dropped a book into a lake, and convinced my dad that not only did I need that book, but I needed that exact, somewhat damp, copy. So my dad got the book from the polluted, Blinky infested, opaque waters, but by that time the waterlogged book was totally unreadable, which absolutely ruined my weekend, which I in turn ruined for the rest of my family. Because I'm charming!
If I had but known that wet books can be saved by freezing, I would have probably been less of a jerk. At that particular moment. Probably not overall.