Sunday, March 3, 2013

Having fun isn't hard when you"ve got a Library Card!

Erin and I have been meaning to indoctrinate her children with the musical episode of Arthur for so long! And we haven't done it and that makes life so much harder cause then I can't walk around the house singing about cookies that smell like fish cause we can't ruin it for them. And it is hard not to sing Arthur songs, for reals.

In other news, I started going to the Library again after a long Hiatus. Part of that was because I was in Utah for three weeks and also because I've been working my way through hardcore English Literature ( which takes a lot of concentration, due to the mixture of Author Schizophrenia and Professor Schizophrenia). But let me be completely honest and admit that those reasons, while valid, are both  cop outs.  You want to know the real reason for my Library Hiatus?

Says, the English major: The Library is always  an adventure.  Why is adventuring bad? Keep in mind that I am using the word adventure free from its general positive connotation. Not that the implied connotation is negative, per se. My point is more that there is no general connotation which applies in any consistent way. Things happen at the Library. Sometimes they are good and sometimes they are bad, and the only consistent thing about the things that happen is that I leave that place exhausted. These excursions are generally interesting enough that I have begun to think of them as Episodes in my own personal Library sitcom. Synopses, coupled with their respective Friends knockoff titles, are as follows:

#1. The one where I lost my wallet
 Covered. Found it. Only panicked a lot.

# 2. The one where I lost Libby
Libby agreed to stay at a table and watch my stack of books whilst I used the facilities. And then I came back and she was gone. And I panicked and broke the quiet library rule* searching for her until I found her in a back corner looking for books on bats. Why didn't I think of that?

#3.The one with all the texting
I lost my powers of Author memorization on this afternoon. So my awesome sister Rose googled like twelve books in a row and texted them all to me while I wandered the rows cursing the library computer that wouldn't let me into the catalog and ignoring the offended looks because I was using my phone and it went off once before I remembered to turn the ringer off. Long story short, Steinbeck and Hemingway are not the same person no matter how much I mix them up. 

#4. The one where I ruined Daxx's favorite shirt.
I was writing a check for a library fine cause no one in this state takes plastic money (although they all have charging stations for the smart cars in the parking lots. Priorities...) and I did not have a pen. So I grabbed his from his pocket, right? And then I stuck it back in and noticed hours later that there was a gaping hole and some pen marks. And he didn't even say anything when I ruined his favorite shirt cause he is all about avoiding the guilt trip, like a champion. I still owe him a green shirt and possibly a pocket protector.

#5. The one with the Rude Librarian.
They have this book drop outside the library. But on the inside of the library it's a door that is labeled book drop that goes to the bins you drop books in from the outside. So if I am in the library, and all the librarians are busy, and the door is open, and the door is labeled book drop, it is reasonable to assume I can go put my books in there, right? So I thought, until that one guy came up to me and said in the most condescending tone of voice possible,"Actually, that isn't for you to use. Do it outside." Somehow, that one phrase coupled with his Snotty Librarian face made me feel like the smallest person in the world. And then I avoided him for the rest of my life.**

#6 The one with Lee in the DVD section.
Once upon a time, I was looking for Jane Eyre unsuccessfully at the Library, when I was approached by a man who asked for any suggestions because he has worked through most of the romantic comedies and he needs new options. Thus ensued a surreal conversation in which Lee presented to me several different business models for all those new occupations he wants to get into including, but not limited to a law firm specializing in malpractice, a catering business that only does weddings, and a restaurant that serves only cloned woolly mammoth steaks, "because you know they are doing that in Asia now. It'll be here soon." He also told me about an eleven year old kid figuring out that T- Rexes could not have been the dominant predator of dinosaurs because their legs aren't long enough to catch anything. He also expressed a sincere love of Jane Eyre and knew what I judged to be a surprising amount for a man in his forties about every version of the movie. The moral of the story: When they start talking about cloning woolly mammoths, nod politely and extricate yourself. Do not ask questions to be polite. I learned this the hard way.

#7 The one with Ross's doppleganger.
I went to this writing workshop at the Library once, and while this author/teacher man looked more like a caveman than Ross, listening to him talk resembled the lectures and quirks of our favorite paleontologist in an eerie way. He even told us about his three divorces, coupled with a segment of the presentation called "Why married couple should spend less time together."
Winner, that one.

Last but not least is the all inclusive "The one where I had to go to the bathroom" because every time I load myself down with books and/or have a small child to keep track of, something about that place send signals to my bladder to ruin my life.

*I find it ironic that the time where I yelled semi-frantically and the one with the rude libararian encounter are not the same day.

**Also, I have a knack for attracting snotty Librarians. They accuse me of stealing books, or charge me double fines, or ask me if I know how to read. Maybe it's the fact that they have degrees in Library Science, a thing that is clearly not a science. Maybe they have let their fake scientist delusions go to their heads. You know, collectively. (Seriously though, why are all librarians brats?)