Missing my Dickens

I wish this were a euphemism, folks, but I mean this literally. Every bit of my Dickens is missing, as in not a Copperfield, Nickleby, Pip, Tale, or House in the house. Even Drood is nowhere to be found.

I love autumn like no other season but when the air starts to get a little chilly and the light a bit scarce a touch sooner each day, I feel the need to brace myself for the coming winter. For whatever reason, my winter preparations include reading some Dickens. Go figure, but it makes me feel like everything is going to be okay. Henry James can do in a pinch but nothing comforts quite like my Dickens.

How could this have happened? Am I just not seeing them on any of the shelves? Do I have some kind of neurological disorder that makes me blind to the Dickens? Did I decide to take all of my Dickens to my office at school? I tend to hoard my books at home, so this seems unlikely. Did a poor anglophile thief come in the night and make off with my Dickens? Do I have a friend with a very specific cleptomaniacal bent or an odd odd sense of humor? Has the Chalupa distributed all of the Dickens to her secret book group? Did I have some sort of drunken blackout during which I flew into some kind of rage against the Dickens and threw them all away?

I am totally baffled.

Updated to add: Found! They were on the small bookshelf in the hallway with the Children's Lit and the Alexander Pope. Of course!!????????? I may have been drinking when I last reorganized the books. Now. Which should I re-read? Which of the which??