I Ask You. . .
. . . would you even dream of going into a library and putting your feet up on a table?
As you talk loudly on your cell phone about how you're going for a smoothie later and OMG your NAILS are in NEED of a manicure?
If you are, you're pretty much off my Christmas card list. But most likely you are not a self-involved middle-aged woman who can't be arsed to take a call someplace more private. And, you know, not annoying the living daylights of anyone else trying to use the library.
I know it's hot, Yapparina, but this isn't your air-conditioned living room, and five minutes in the vestible between the doors wouldn't fry you.
Other than that, pretty good "second day" at my public library job. I learned about how we manage when our circulation is offline (it sucks, but most patrons were very understanding). Although apparently it was too hot for our notorious problem patron--I know of him only from e-mails from the director and other staff--to come out, we were pretty busy. And I fielded my first crazy reference call from a senior lady on a quest to contact a documentary film maker (I am SO SORRY to the college whose film department contact info I provided her) who spelled out everything she was writing down. And she was writing down pretty much everything I said.
There was a lovely patron who worked 40 years at a university library and was very encouraging, even giving me her contact info. I have a lot of thoughts about what we discussed--and what I have been thinking about lately--that I am itching to share.
But right now, having not slept well during this heat wave, I'm thinking a drink of water, prayers, and bedtime is more my speed.