Katie's Badi, her precious blanket, is not. And it was in the backpack.
The backpack is not at the optometrist. It was not in the lost and found at the parking garage when I called. Nor was it anywhere to be seen when I drove back to Evanston to check, nor at the residential side of the building where the folks in the garage suggested I look, nor at the nearby Barnes & Noble, nor in any of the dozen or so trash cans that I looked in.
There is a tiny chance that the backpack came out of the van at the hot dog stand where we ate lunch, a possibility I hadn't considered until exhausting all others. They were closed by the time that I was driving home, so we'll give them a call tomorrow.
In the meantime, I'm going to go eat dinner.