The One With the 12 Library Days of Christmas

What? It's been since September since I've written anything? Anything at all?

Yeah, I know.

But what better time than that which I am forced to work on Christmas Eve to update?

I don't even really have a good update, but I've been composing the 12 Library Days of Christmas in my head all day, and I was going to put it on Twitter, but then I decided I could illustrate it and everything here. Plus, I could make empty promises about how I swear I'm going to write more in the coming year and I could talk about how, one of these days, I'll tell you all about my new job, beginning in January, and the fact that I got married in November.

But I digress.

The 12 Days of Library Christmas

On the first day of Christmas, my patrons gave to me. . .

Working on Christmas Eve

On the second day of Christmas, my patrons gave to me. . .

Two massive fines

. . .and working on Christmas Eve

On the third day of Christmas, my patrons gave to me. . .

Three screaming kids

. . .two massive fines, and working on Christmas Eve

On the fourth day of Christmas, my patrons gave to me. . .

Four fighting thugs

. . .three screaming kids, two massive fines, and working on Christmas Eve

On the fifth day of Christmas, my patrons gave to me. . .

Fiiiive un-su-per-vised teens

. . .four fighting thugs, three screaming kids, two massive fines, and working on Christmas Eve

On the sixth day of Christmas, my patrons gave to me. . .

Six drunks a-snoring

. . .fiiiiive un-supervised teens, four fighting thugs, three screaming kids, two massive fines, and working on Christmas Eve

On the seventh day of Christmas, my patrons gave to me. . .

Seven stolen laptops

. . .six drunks a-snoring, fiiiiiive un-supervised teens, four fighting thugs, three screaming kids, two massive fines, and working on Christmas Eve

On the eighth day of Christmas, my patrons gave to me. . .

Eight nasty phone calls

. . .seven stolen laptops, six drunks a-snoring, fiiiiiive un-supervised teens, four fighting thugs, three screaming kids, two massive fines, and working on Christmas Eve

On the ninth day of Christmas, my patrons gave to me. . .

Nine lost USB drives

. . .eight nasty phone calls, seven stolen laptops, six drunks a-snoring, fiiiiiive unsupervised teens, four fighting thugs, three screaming kids, two massive fines, and working on Christmas Eve

On the tenth day of Christmas, my patrons gave to me. . .

Ten lying liars

. . .nine lost USB drives, eight nasty phone calls, seven stolen laptops, six drunks a-snoring, fiiiiive unsupervised teens, four fighting thugs, three screaming kids, two massive fines, and working on Christmas Eve

On the eleventh day of Christmas, my patrons gave to me. . .

Eleven ringing cellphones

. . .ten lying liars, nine lost USB drives, eight nasty phone calls, seven stolen laptops, six drunks a-snoring, fiiiiiive unsupervised teens, four fighting thugs, three screaming kids, two massive fines, and working on Christmas Eve.

On the twelfth day of Christmas, my patrons gave to me. . .

Twelve inane questions

. . .eleven ringing cellphones, ten lying liars, nine lost USB drives, eight nasty phone calls, seven stolen laptops, six drunks a-snoring, fiiiiiiiive unsupervised teens, four fighting thugs, three screaming kids, two massive fines, and working on Christmas Eve!

Merry Christmas and happy assorted other holidays to whatever readers I have left. I hope your presents are awesome, your carols are on-key, and your gingerbread houses are especially gingerbready.

Until I get my act together to write with more frequency. . .I bid you adieu and farewell. Merry Christmas, y'all!

The One With a (Mostly) Wordless Wednesday

Some of these don't apply to libraries. Most of them do. (Click to enlarge.)

The One With Offensive People Reading Books

My apologies to those of you who read this blog in a reader. The html etc. in my last post was messed up in an epic sort of way. I think I got it figured out.

Also, I just realized that, even though they were about a month apart, I began the post before this one and the one before that by talking about how much I love books. Sorry to be repetitive.

When we last met, I told you about offensive books that may or may not actually be offensive. Today is kind of along the same lines, but the offensiveness of the next book in question is more ambiguous. At least, it is to me.

Have you ever had one of those conversations with people that, you THINK you know the other person's opinion on something, but then it turns out you're WAY wrong

Par example, you're talking to someone about American Idol (which. . .I DO NOT WATCH), and the person you're talking to says, "Can you believe the shaggy haired guy?"

Now, their tone of voice leads you to believe that they share your opinion on the shaggy haired guy: that he's the most dreamy, talented man to ever stand behind a microphone. (Note: If there are currently any shaggy haired guys on American Idol, that is just a coincidence. I do not watch.) So you nod emphatically.

Then the other person continues by saying, "Seriously. Don't you have to have some TALENT and SEX APPEAL to be on these shows?"

Whoops.

Had you opened your mouth, the conversation would have ended quite differently, perhaps with a fistfight. Instead, your friend thinks you agree on something, and you know for sure your friend has lousy taste in men.

I think you know the types of conversations I mean. I had one of those today.

This lady and I were discussing banned books, and she said, "Oh, we banned a book once."

I THOUGHT she meant this particular library branch. That someone had complained, and they had removed a book because of it.

"Oh yeah?" I asked, wittily.

"Yeah," she said. "It was this book. . .I think it was called 'Two Princes.' It was about this prince trying to find a princess, but he couldn't find one he liked, and he ended up with another prince. A man."

"Oh," I said, rolling my eyes in a knowing manner. "That's ridiculous." My eyeroll was meant to convey that I, too, thought it was ridiculous that they would ban a book for something as innocuous as a gay king. The misunderstanding of the conversation went both ways, however, as I learned when she continued with, "I know. Can you believe it? A gay king. In a children's book! Once I figured out what was going to happen, I stopped reading the book to my grandchildren immediately!"

Oh.

Oh.

This lady wasn't offended that a book about gay princes had been removed from the library. She was offended there was a book about gay princes written.

"I collected all of them from this library and shipped them off to other branches," she said as she walked away, basking in her own smugness.

. . . . . . .

Apparently, it's in vogue now to promote small-mindedness and lifestyles different than your own. Excellent.

Incidentally, the book she was talking about is King and King by Linda de Haan.

Unfortunately, it looks like that lady won, because we have no copies in the system. But along with the bad, there is some good. The absolute cutest book I think I've seen in life is called "Where's Walrus?" by Stephen Savage. (I'd post a picture, but Blogger is giving me fits today, so you should just click on it to give it a look.) It's about this walrus that escapes from the zoo and hides from the zookeepper by putting on different hats and taking on different jobs. The book has no words, just pictures, but it's awesome. Kind of makes me want to go have a kid so I'd have an excuse to buy it. Maybe next time I'll find something other than books to talk about.

Then Again, Maybe I Won't.

The One Where HarperCollins Hates Libraries

Sorry for the hiatus, y'all. Lots going on, not feeling like talking about most of it.

There comes a time in everyone's life, I think, where you realize that big companies, with their millions of dollars of income every year, are really just out to screw you. I've already said my piece about insurance companies, but now I have a new company upon which to unleash my (completely justified!) bile: HarperCollins.

Most of you know I work in a library. I refer to myself as a librarian even though I haven't found the money to go back for my degree to make it official. But here's one thing I don't need a degree for: I love books. I love books as much as I love food, and you guys know that's a LOT.

When e-Books started being a thing, I worried. I worried that the printed book was going to go out of style in a few years, and I worried that I'd be forced to get an e-Reader just to read the books I love so much.

My house is full of books. There are books everywhere. I'm always reading. Books and reading and all that are all very important aspects of my life.

(I know I'm jumping around here, but I'm getting to the point.)

HarperCollins has decided that they are going to limit the number of times they are going to let libraries check out e-books. I've linked to the letter they posted, but the basic gist of it is that libraries may purchase e-books for check out, but they can only be checked out 26 times. HarperCollins has decided that after these 26 times are used up, the libraries must purchase the books again.

This is. . .infuriating to me. If libraries made a habit of buying books that would only last until they were checked out 26 times, we'd have nothing. We'd have no books on the shelves, and the point of libraries would be moot. HarperCollins is just going for the money. They don't care about getting the books out. They don't care about people reading. They care about the money.

If you go here, you can read a very eloquent open letter to HarperCollins that says everything I'd love to say here, but for some reason, am missing the words to say.

The writer of HarperCollins' "open letter to librarians" said, "Twenty-six circulations can provide a year of availability for titles with the highest demand, and much longer for other titles and core backlist."

Any book that lasts just a year? Has no room in a library. And if e-readers are the wake of the future and all that, why would you make it so hard for someone to get books on it? Why are you punishing people who maybe don't like holding books, but who like reading? (Like people who, up until this point, maybe used audio books.)

It seems that many libraries are boycotting HarperCollins or HarperCollins' e-books or whatever. I've got a whole list of things I'm boycotting, so maybe we just need to add HarperCollins to that list.

I'm not suggesting they give unlimited views for one price forever, but 26 views? Ridiculous.

What do you think? I think HarperCollins is all about how much money the can eke out of libraries who already are having to cut their budgets way, way down, and who just want to provide an inexpensive service to their patrons. I'm not saying we should get anything for free. But be reasonable, HarperCollins. All you're doing is pissing off the people who use you the most.

The One With My Orthodontist

Those of you who follow me on Twitter probably saw last night a minor questioning of self when I ran into my childhood orthodontist at the library checkout line.

I'm sitting there, minding my own business, probably reading blogs or checking my e-mail or something, and a woman walks up and hands me a book and her card. I scanned her card, not looking at the name (because I rarely do, except in cases where the name catches my attention, such as the family with the last name Buttz or someone with a crazy first name like Kjamashonda, pronounced "Jane").

The book she was checking out was "Eats Shoots & Leaves" by Lynne Truss. It's a book about punctuation and the proper use of it.

(If you haven't heard it, the title comes from this joke where a panda walks into a bar, sits down, has a couple beers, and then orders dinner. His dinner comes, he eats it, and it's a fairly routine visit. Then he stands up, takes out a pistol, and fires three shots into the air. The manager comes running out and says, "What the hell are you doing?" The panda looks at him and says, "I'm a panda. Look it up." The manager goes to the computer in the back and looks up "panda." The entry says, "Panda - a black and white bearlike mammal found mostly in China. Eats shoots and leaves.")

So ANYWAY, I told the lady that it's a really good book, and one I own. She kind of looks at me and says, "Are you Sarah?"

Since I wear my nametag hanging out of my pants pocket, she wouldn't have been able to see it, so she must have actually known me. I said, "Yes?" (as if I weren't certain) and she says, "Do you recognize me?"

(Sidenote: I HATE when people ask me that! Clearly, I do not recognize you, because if I DID, then I would say something like, "HEY! Person I recognize! I haven't seen you forever!")

I tell her I do not, and then she tells me, "Your orthodontist?" and I'm all, "OMG! Hi!"

I'm wondering how often, as an orthodontist, when you run into former patients, they smile really widely to show you that their teeth still look as good as they did last time they saw you.

I may have done that.

via sodahead

She then asked me how my parents are. Not feeling the need to go into the fact that they've gotten divorced since last time I was there, I just said they were fine. (They are.) Then she asked about my sister, who was also a patient of hers (Thinking back on it, she probably KNEW my parents had gotten divorced, since my sister was a patient there, too, and it would have been after that.) I told her she was fine, in college, etc.

And she was all, "You majored in English, right? Remind me where you went to school." I did, but was all, "WTF?" that she knew about the English thing. (Again, probably because my sister was a patient when I was in school, I think.)

Anyway, it was CRAZY that she remembered me, considering I was a patient of hers for approximately a year. I had the braces for 10 months, and then I had a retainer that probably got checked a time or two. But approximately a year.

THEN I started worrying. 12 was my most awkward and hideous year. I was Not Cute when I was 12. I went to her when I was 12. WHY DID SHE RECOGNIZE ME?

(Side note: I put "awkward teenager" into Google Images to find a good illustration here, and about 80% of the pictures that popped up were Michael Cera. Michael, FIND A NEW CHARACTER TO PLAY!)

That's actually the end of the story. There's not real big wrap-up or conclusion. Just me, thinking I grew into my giant ears and awkwardly big teeth only to be immediately recognized by the orthodontist that saw me at my most unfortunate-looking.

I'll end with a question: I have two packages to send out to people I've never met in real life, but who I have met online, and they are going to involve baked yummies. What I wanted to do was have a "giveaway" here (because, you know, I've ALWAYS wanted to do that, but I don't have people giving me things to give away), giving away a third package. But then I wondered, would people want things that someone they'd never met had made?

Granted, if you eat at restaurants and whatever, you don't know who's making your food. But I think you know what I mean.

My question is this: If I offered that kind of thing, would anyone enter? Or would I just have people I know entering, leaving me feeling sad and destitute? I'll tell you, I'm a very clean baker, and I don't lick the utensils (at least I don't when I'm making things for other people. If it's just me and D? I'm ALL OVER IT!)

Let me know, so I can get this show on the road.

Or, if I just get people I know telling me they'd enter, then I'll just make it for someone I know. Either way.

The One With 5 Things I Do Not Understand

1. Why anyone gives two flips what Kathy Griffin says. (Maybe I should change this to "Why Kathy Griffin is famous in the first place.")

2. Why, the day after Elizabeth Edwards dies, on Yahoo!'s "Trending Now" sidebar, "Cancer treatment" is currently number 7, but "Ashlee Simpson" is number 1. Apparently, Ashlee is either A) "urging her sister, Jessica, to start a family" or B) "planning to have another baby to get some attention."

This woman (who I, actually, personally, didn't have a hugely high opinion of, but it always sucks a big one when someone can't beat cancer) who is known for being a successful lawyer, a successful advocate, a not-so-successful politician's wife, and the writer of two widely read books, dies after a long, grueling battle with cancer, and the number one trending topic on this site is the Simpson sisters and their respective uteruses. (Uterri?)

3. Why shows like "Wonderfalls" are yanked after one season, but shows like "Two and a Half Men," which has its moments but is generally sophomoric humor, soldier on.

4. Why people think I believe them when they tell me either that they're going to pay their fines next time they're in the library, or how they're 100% certain they returned that book that's been missing since 2006.

5. Why Christmas is almost here, and I have no money to buy anyone anything. (This one, I may actually be able to answer. It's got something to do with working only one part-time job. A job I love, by the way, but still only a part-time one.)

The One Where I Am Maybe Unnecessarily Hateful

I have figured out what I'm going to do with my life.

I am going to continue working at the library, because obviously, it's a badass job, and come summer, I'm going to enroll in the technical college here and get my Associate's in Baking and Pastry Arts.

Sarah's gonna be a pastry chef, y'all.

I've been saying this for. . .a while now, but I'm putting it into black and white on October 25, 2010, so that in a few months, if I haven't said anything else about it, you can be like, "Um, Sarah? Lies."

The main thing I need to figure out is the money. Clearly, I have none. I need to go by the school and find out about financial aid, etc. But I'm DOING IT.

Today at work, people were working my nerves. This happened yesterday, too, but today could have had something to do with the fact that my boss brought in this bundt cake for the birthdays in October, one of which is mine.

(By the way, while I'm thinking about it. . .I'll be doing a French Fridays with Dorie this week! I know I've been remiss since that first week, but my excuse is that the things chosen for weeks were, A) something I didn't want to eat or B) something with expensive ingredients I could not afford at the time. But since this week's recipe is a cake [Awww, yeah!] and all I need to purchase is apples, we're on for Friday.)

(OH! Another by-the-way, speaking of baking, Katie's 19th birthday was on Friday, and when I'd asked her what kind of cake she wanted, she said she wanted a dinosaur-themed cake. So this was her cake, enjoyed by my family last Saturday:

I KNOW, RIGHT?! Awesome. Also, in case you were wondering, and I know you were, those are indeed milk chocolate rocks at the bottom. WIN!)

OK, where was I? Ah yes. The October Birthdays Bundt Cake. I got super busy at work this evening, and by the time I got to the back to enjoy some of the cake, it was gone.

GONE.

My name was one of the ones on the little October Birthdays sign, and I didn't get any cake.

So that bothered me. Maybe you'll say it bothered me more than it should have, but then I'd tell you to SHUT YOUR WHORE MOUTH. It bothered me. So I was a bit moody.

What I should explain about the library is that different librarians deal with different Problem Patrons (PPs) differently. If a PP doesn't have their library card, some librarians will ask them for their name, others will ask for their photo ID, and still others will give them kind of a hard time while asking for their name AND ID. (I ask for a driver's license, if you're wondering.) Stuff like that. There are guidelines in place, yes, but if you mess with the wrong librarian on the wrong day, it's going to be a lot different than if you are sincerely apologetic for leaving your card at home and are nice, and you do not think we OWE you something.

So this kid comes up to me and has like $38 of fines on his card because two of his books are "long overdue" and when that happens, the system adds in the price it would cost to replace the book. He asked me how many books he could check out on his card. I said there's no limit, and he was like, "No, THIS card."

After I saw the fines, I explained to him that the system said I should not let him check them out, due to the fines, but how many he could check out would really depend on which librarian he got. I let him check one out. Nice, right?

Then. This lady waddles up to the desk. I say waddles not because I'm being mean or cruel or whatever, but she was one of those ladies that is approximately as wide as she is tall.

She hands me her card, all surly. I scanned it, and she had $48 dollars of combined fines and lost books dating back to 2008.

I say, "Um, this card has $10 of fines on it, and $38 dollars of book replacement charges."

(There's also a note in the system indicating she is "aware" of the charges.)

She glares at me and says, "Yeah?"

I said, "The system is indicating that you need to clear some of those fines before you can check out anymore books."

She glared at me again. "I ain't got no money with me."

(I'm thinking, "You've had two years to have some money with you.")

I said, "Well, I'm not able to check anything out until some of these fines are cleared."

Now. . .this is not ENTIRELY true. I have the ability to override the system message and check stuff out despite the fines. But this woman's attitude rubbed me entirely the wrong way. If you're going to use a place that has rules, you need to FOLLOW THE DAMN RULES.

She looked at me, confused and irritated, and didn't say anything. I'm guessing this is the part where, in the past, people have said to her, "Oh, OK. I'll take care of it for you this time. Just make sure you bring the money next time you come in!"

Clearly, she had never gotten into Sarah's checkout line.

She just stood there, staring at me.

"You could have a friend check them out for you," I offered.

She shook her head and stared at me.

"Well," I said, "once you get those fines taken care of, you'll be back on track."

She stared at me for another 30 seconds and walked away.

I wondered if I'd been unnecessarily mean. But maybe not. If she'd been nicer to me, it would have been a completely different story. But if you're going to be rude to me, I'm not going to go out of my way for you.

Another problem we have at the library is people leaving. Or rather, not leaving. We close at 9 Monday through Thursday and at 8:45, a message is given over the loudspeaker, indicating we will be closing in 15 minutes. Then another warning is given at 5 'til. Then one says, "The library is closed." Generally, people will wait until the 5-minute warning or the actual "We're closed" message to try to check out their books. At that point, the self-checkouts have been closed down, and I'm forced to do their transactions.

Tonight, though, I'd just HAD ENOUGH. I saw this lady browsing books in the self-help section (!!!) and when the security guard announced, "The library is now closed!", she then started to make her way to the desk. I, however, as soon as I heard the announcement, powered down the computer and went about making arrangements to leave as soon as we got the "All clear!"

She comes over and says she wants to check out, and I say, "Oh. . .I just turned off the computer because the damn library is closed."

To her credit, she says, "Oh, OK. I'll come back tomorrow."

But then the lady who was at the desk with me who is. . .SUCH a people-pleaser, one of those that wants everyone to like her, you know?, says, "Oh, I'll just turn this one back on," and I want to say, "NO! If you do that, they will NEVER LEARN!"

As it turns out, the desk at the back had not powered down their computers yet, so she checked out there.

Am I wrong to do what I did? Am I wrong to be so frustrated with these people? Is society, as a whole, just getting more and more dumb?

Maybe.

The One With the 5-Year-Old's Question

Working in a library, I come into contact with a lot of kids. Quiet kids, loud kids, sweet kids, obnoxious kids. . .they're everywhere, these kids. My least favorite are the ones who scream and scream and scream when their parents have repeatedly told them to STFU. (These kids differ from the ones whose parents just let them run wild and ignore them. When this is the case, it's 25% disdain for the kid and 75% for the parent. But if they're ignoring their instructions? I can't stand those kids.)

Then there are kids like the 6- or 7-year-old boy who brought his own library card (signed in his own handwriting) and his books to the front desk all by himself to check out his books. I love kids like that, because they're so excited, and so polite, and very nice.

Today, though, I came across a kid who turned out to be perfectly fine (his brother, on the other hand, I wanted to slap, as he was screaming and crying and trying to twist out of his mother's grasp while yelling, "I'M NOT MISBEHAVING! I AM BEHAVING! I AM NOT MISBEHAVING!!!." Um, yes you are.) but who I swear took 10 years off my life.

Anyway, this kid is quietly standing beside his mother and horrible brother, just hanging out. He was about 5. I finish checking his mother's books out, and she turns with her younger, horrible Hell Beast to leave. The kid walks up to the counter (which, by him standing on his toes and stretching his neck out, he was just barely able to see over) and says to me, "Can I tell you something?"

My stomach Hit. The. Floor. There was no real reason for it, but I imagined it ending horribly. I expected him to say something like:

A) "Daddy says that Barack Obama is a Goddamn Communist Prick who is driving the economy into the ground. What does 'economy' mean?"

B) "Mommy drinks out of a big bottle every night until she falls asleep on the floor. When she falls asleep, me and my brother eat pie filling with a spork. Also, I like to play with matches. They're pretty."

C) "Mommy and Daddy yell at each other a lot."

D) "You've got a big black thing stuck in your teeth. What's that?"

or

E) "I just found out where babies come from! Wanna hear? Mommy says every lady has a vagina. Do YOU have a vagina?"

I panicked briefly, but said, "Sure. What do you want to tell me?"

He blinked his big, blue eyes at me, thought for a second, and said:

"What's that box of rubber bands for?"

I hope I didn't audibly breathe a sigh of relief, because I felt like I let out a giant breath I'd been holding. I wasn't going to have to hear something horrible, or get social services involved, or anything like that. I DID want to slap his mother and say, "You need to teach your kid that 'telling someone something' and 'asking someone a question' are NOT THE SAME THING, and you just FREAKED ME OUT."

But it was just an innocuous question that I knew exactly how to respond to.

(If you're wondering, when you have a book on hold, we put a piece of paper with your name on it on the side and rubber band it to the book. Once the person picks up their book, there's a container for them to drop the rubber bands in so we can reuse them.)

I'm just damn grateful that I didn't have to hear about his mother's vagina.

The One Where I'm Not Working Full-Time

Note: I would like to add two alternates to my List of 5. Matthew Morrison and Justin Timberlake. Thanks.

So last Wednesday was my last day of full-time pseudo-employment. Thank you (THANK YOU!) to the people who left comments, wishing me luck and such. I felt. . .I don't want to say "loved,"

because that's a wee bit dramatic, but I really, really appreciated it. So thank you.

Since Wednesday, I've been. . .admittedly really, really worried about money, because, like when I lost my job in 2009, I had a lot brighter outlook on how soon I could work things out than it turned out to actually be. (That's an awkward sentence. I think you know what I mean, though.)

I have, however, cleaned pretty much the entire apartment, including throwing out a bunch of trash and bringing 3 bags of stuff to Goodwill.

I also made a cake on Sunday. I'd never made a layer cake before, so I used a box mix to practice on. It actually turned out really well. I made two layers of white cake and frosted it with chocolate (also out of a box. Or can.) I also decorated it with this can of yellow frosting D bought me a while back.

It turned out really well. It's almost completely gone, as D came home and had a couple big slices (he was a fan) and I'd eaten pretty much half of the thing since Sunday (thanks, PMS!). D's birthday is coming up soon, so I'll be making another one in the coming days.

I love my library job. Love. It. I worked a full day Saturday and the 8 hours there passed in about half the time that 8 hours passed in my old job. (Not. . .literally, obviously.) I'm going to be working another full day Friday, so that's cool. I've had only one really hateful person I've helped, and on Saturday, we had a guy that was flashing his junk to people in the parking lot, but other than that, it's been basically smooth sailing.

And finally, I bought a dress to get married in! It's not a. . .wedding dress, per se, but it is the dress that I am going to wear when we finally make it legal. I bought it at Goodwill, and I strongly suspect it was, in a former life, someone's bridesmaid's dress. I can't post a picture of it (because I might be getting married in green instead of white, but I still think the guy shouldn't see it prior to the wedding day) but it's like. . .it's what I imagine Tinkerbell's much more conservative sister might wear.

When I brought it to the register, the lady at the counter, who had a Fran Drescher voice and an Amy Winehouse bouffant, was like, "This. . .isn't for a Halloween costume, is it?" I told her it wasn't, and she was visibly relieved.

"I've been worried someone would buy this for a Halloween costume," she told me. "And it's just so pretty."

I told her I was wearing it to get married, and she said, "Oh, HONEY!" and was so excited. She then told me how practical I am, and wished me well.

And that made my afternoon.

Also, side note? It's been raining since D left on Sunday. I'd like to think that now that he's home, it's going to stop.

The One Where I Quit My Job

You all know I have a part-time job at a library. A part-time job that I love and that keeps me from jumping off tall buildings when the time at my full-time job gets to be Way Too Much.

A couple weeks ago, one of the librarians there called me and told me there was a Library Assistant position open, and they wanted me to take it. I was like, "OMG!"

Then came the kicker: it was only part-time, but part-time to the tune of 20 hours a week. So if I kept my day job, I'd be working 60-hour weeks.

I have no problem with working hard. I've DONE 60-hour weeks (Hello, newspaper!). But when I was working 40 hours a week and then an additional 10.5 - 14 at the library, I had to drop one of the days at the library, because it was just too much. Too much physically, mentally, and relationshipally.

So I decided I was going to quit my day job. I was going to quit my day job, take the library job, and hopefully gather many people together who wanted me to do freelance-type things for them. That second part is still a work in progress.

Last Wednesday, the first boss I had (the one that DOESN'T dislike me), came in, and said, "OK, look, [New Boss] wants to hire someone more qualified for your position, so I didn't want you to feel weird when people started coming in and interviewing for your job. Don't tell her I told you."

. . . . .

Beg pardon? I've been in this position since April. New boss has been here about a month, and one of those weeks was a week of vacation. How is you starting here making me any less qualified for the job?

I decided at that moment to give my notice. I said, "Well, actually, that works out, because I have a new job, etc." And I said I'd stay until Friday (this coming), but then I decided, they're not doing ME any favors, I'm going to have Friday completely off.

I also said, "Since I still need to talk to [New Boss] about it, I'd appreciate you not saying anything to her."

So, she's asked me not to tell New Boss she told me all this, I asked her to not tell New Boss that I was going to give my notice.

New Boss walks in from lunch and Old Boss says, "Hey! I told Sarah that we were going to be hiring for her position, but it's OK, because she already has a new job!"

So I guess THAT'S all out in the open.

I've been training the girl taking my place today. Warning her about the ins and outs of this place, telling her what she needs to know, etc.

And now I'm embarking on a scary, scary, maybe not-well-funded journey into librariandom and freelancing.

I worked my first shift at the library last night. That's a story for another time, though. It was epic.

The One Where I'm Socially Awkward Sometimes

I am feeling more awkward at this moment than any human being has a right to feel.

First of all, I have some. . .aspects of my personality that I have, previously, thought could be attributed to being autistic. Then I did some research (Thanks, hypochondriac-ism!) and found out that it's a thing that's diagnosed in childhood, and not in adulthood. I, admittedly, don't know a whole lot about it, and it is the furthest thing from my mind to insult anyone who actually has to deal with things of this nature, but, you know, you don't know unless you ask. Or, in my case, research.

I just find that a lot of things that happen to me in social situations are largely unexplainable, unless the explanation is that I'm just really, really awkward. I mentioned this to my mother a while back, and said something like, "Well, that's just because I'm socially awkward," and she's all, "Um, no you're not."

I feel like she has No Idea.

I guess the difference is that I am (sometimes) able to curb the awkward, pretending like I'm super-comfortable in social situations, when, in fact, I'd honestly rather be at home, by myself or with D, making Candy Sushi, which I will, in fact, be doing tonight. I guess if there were something, legitimately, physically (or mentally?) wrong with me, I wouldn't be able to fake it.

A lot of the symptoms (granted, they show up in kids, but I don't have anything else to go on), fit me. Stuff like autistic (children) may: (and I got all this from here)

* Be overly sensitive in sight, hearing, touch, smell, or taste;

* Have unusual distress when routines are changed;

* May not respond to eye contact;

* Prefer to spend time alone, rather than with others;

* May find normal noises painful;

* May withdraw from physical contact because it is overstimulating or overwhelming;

* Gets stuck on a single topic or task;

* Has a short attention span;

* And so on.

I don't know. Obviously, I don't have this particular issue, but it WOULD explain weird behaviors sometimes, and would further explain why, in social situations, I find myself just not sure what to do or responding inappropriately. And then you throw in my OCD, and I find myself feeling uncomfortably, intensely horrible when I realize I've done something in a non-social normy kind of way. It tortures me.

If I DID have autism, it might also explain being unapproachable, which D mentioned today. That wasn't the first time I've heard that, but I think of myself as pretty friendly, especially at work, and it just kind of sucks that other people don't see me the same way I see me. But I really don't have any excuse except being. . .unapproachable, and apparently, unfriendly. (I'll get to that in a minute.)

Reminds me of about. . .12 years ago, I guess, when my mom's neighbors had their granddaughter over for a few days. She was my age, and I was introduced to her, and she and I hung out while she was there. The last day of her trip, we were sitting on the front stoop, and she was like, "You know, when I first saw you, you didn't look very interesting or very much fun. But you are!"

A compliment, ultimately, sure. But damn. I don't look very interesting, I don't look like very much fun, I'm not approachable, I'm intimidating, I'm not very pretty (thanks, guy in my Sociology class), and as a child, I had ears the size of small satellites. (OK, no one ACTUALLY ever said that to me, but I have photographic evidence, yo!) I do actually have a few friends here and here, and D's not someone I made up, so obviously, people like me a little sometimes. It's just. . .hard to acknowledge that you come across as so completely different than you think you do.

All this being said, I'm finally getting to the reason I feel so awkward right now.

Three people at work are leaving/have left this week and next. This one guy who, I wasn't FRIENDS with, per se, but with whom I had a healthy rapport was heading out. He stopped at the door and turned back to say bye to me. He comes up to my window, shakes me hand, and says, "Take care, Sarah."

And what do I say?

Nothing.

I do not respond whatsoever.

I half-smile at him and shake his hand, but no words come out of my mouth. No, "It's been nice knowing you!" or "Good luck at your new job!"

Nothing.

I stupid half-smile at him and then he turns and walks away, probably thinking to himself, "Wow! How unfriendly and unapproachable is SHE? Plus, her freaking ears stick out halfway from her head!"

And so now I'm sitting here, agonizing about it. I'm probably never going to see this guy again, but somehow, that makes it WORSE. Because now, any time he thinks of his last day here, he's going to be like, "Wow. . .she didn't even say bye!"

(Note: I, in all of my common sense, know that he probably will never think of that exchange again as long as he lives, but tell that to my stupid, stupid BRAIN!)

So after stewing in that for a few minutes, I did what any person in my position would do.

I went to the breakroom and cut myself a slice of his farewell cake.

What did you expect, really?

The One Where The List Makes a Comeback

Hey, y'all. Remember The List? Due to my complete lack of anything interesting to say and/or discuss today, I'm bringing the list back. In no particular order.

Let's see. . .Apparently, Day 28 (What's in Your Handbag or Purse) was already done, inadvertently, so I'm going to go ahead and mark that one off. We'll go with:

Day 25: Your Day, In Great Detail

Since it's about 10:50 a.m., obviously, this is not THIS day in great detail. This is a generic day, since most of them go about the same. Also, you may or may not be sorry for asking for great detail.

6:40: Alarm goes off. I hit snooze, cursing the world.

6:49: Hit snooze.

6:58: Hit snooze.

7:07: Hit snooze.

7:16: Hit snooze. D comes in and politely tells me if I don't get my ass in gear, I'm going to be late.

7:25: Finally get up and get in shower.

7:32: Get out of shower and begin "What to wear" process.

7:33-7:41: Change clothes three times.

7:42-7:50: Panickedly (is that a word?) gather up everything I need for the day, grab bagel and juice D has so nicely gotten together for me, hunt for my badge, hurry out the door.

7:50-8:05-ish: Drive to and get to work.

8:05-ish-12:00: OK, so, the order of all of this varies from day to day, so I'll just give you a list of what could and probably, at some point, will happen during this 4-hour span:

*Mafia Man comes by my desk and scares the crap out of me.

*I say, "I'm good, thanks, how are you?" between five and 15 times. (Yes. I'm aware I should say I'm doing "well," but that doesn't flow as easily.)

*My boss calls between two and 100 times.

*I enter the forms that people have filled out.

*Three people ask me to do things for them, believing me to be their personal assistant.

*Two people call me, asking to be transferred to someone else in the building, because they don't want to look up the person's extension.

*My boss references how much she dislikes at least two people at the company, following it with "But they're a nice person!"

*I drink at least one Diet Coke.

*I answer three phone calls for people who don't work here; At least one of these callers will insist they are correct, and ask me (1) How long I've been here; (2) How long the person they've called for has been gone; (3) Am I sure I'm spelling the name correctly?

*I wave at the jauntily gay mailman when he drops everything off in the lobby.

*Three to five people call or come by, asking if we're accepting applications. I explain to them that they can drop off a resume, but that you don't actually fill out an application unless called for an interview. One will ask me for a fax number. Two will have resumes ready for me. One of these resumes will have so many errors, it makes me want to cry a little.

*Seven people come to the front door and try to open it. It is locked. Two of these people look at me, and I push the button under the desk to unlock the door for them. The rest of the people won't even glance over at me and, after trying to open the door again, harder this time, walk over to the phone on the wall and try to figure out who they need to call. Three of THESE people eventually notice me. The rest linger in the lobby until someone lets them in.

*I office-laugh at approximately eight things people say.

*I go on a massive hunt for at least two people that have appointments waiting in the lobby, only to find that, when I get back to the front, they've already come and retrieved the person.

*Four people call me ma'am.

*I chat with people on gChat, talking about the drags of work.

*Blogs are read/written.

12:00: Lunch! D comes by and picks me up and someone takes over my post for the next hour.

1:00: Back to work. Small talk with whomever has taken my place.

1:10: I'm ready to go home.

1:10-3:00: Finish whatever work still needs to be done, interspersed with the stuff from the 8:05-12:00 block.

3:00: Boss calls me to talk crap about someone.

3:05: Boss comes up to my desk and insists she needs to use my area to make phone calls (usually in Spanish) and/or use my computer. This renders me basically useless.

3:45: Boss finishes using my space.

3:45-4:15: Boss begins to talk about her personal life. This includes her kid, her friends, her gyno appointments, and how long it's been since she's gotten laid. (13 years, if you wonder.)

4:15-4:40: More of the same from the morning. Counting down the minutes.

4:40: Boss calls with something that "needs to be done ASAP."

4:50: Boss calls to tell me it can be done tomorrow.

4:55: This is almost gut-wrenching how slowly time is moving.

5:00: OUT OF HERE!

5:00-5:20: Travel to second job. (Monday and Wednesday) Eat something or other.

5:30: Start library job.

5:30 to 7:30: Work, dealing with people who I've mentioned in previous posts, and wash my hands at least five times.

7:30: Break time! Either talk to D or read or power nap with eyes open.

7:45: Back to work! Do the book drop!

9:00: OUT OF HERE!

9:00-9:20: Drive home from library.

9:20: Eat something.

9:45: Settle in for computer browsing/reading/conversating/TV-watching.

Sometime between 10:30 and 12:30: BED! Get to get up and do it all again in a few hours.

So there you go. My day in EXCRUCIATING detail.

The One Where I'm Feeling My Feelings

Before I get into the whole thing about the concert last night, I'd like to make a comment. I read on another blog (Oh, OK. . .it was Aunt Becky's. . .I'm just feeling like I'm referencing/name-dropping her a LOT as of late. . .) about Being Yourself when you're blogging. She talks about all the people who present their perfect-sounding lives on their blogs. People who refer to their children and significant others as "DD" or "DH," which, as I found out, stands for something like Dear Daughter or Darling Husband. I would like to clarify right now that when I refer to D, I'm not calling him Dear or Darling or anything else that makes me want to throw up like that. It's the first initial of his name, so that's why I call him that. It's because I'm lazy, not because I'm super-sentimental.

I have trouble sometimes with having Too Many Feelings. My Feelings eff up a lot of things. Between My Feelings and my OCD and That Time of the Month, I'm an emotional wreck often. The thing is, though, I don't want to be. I hate that, and I try my damnedest not to let My Feelings spill over onto my blog. At least not too often.

I don't want to bitch and moan and cry about every little detail of my life that's bugging me at any given time. That's what my middle school/high school/college livejournal was for. Also, my old Blogger blog. I don't feel like that's what people read blogs to see. I don't think everything in the 'blogosphere' should be puppies and roses and mommy bloggers who think their Dear Offspring crap Skittles, but neither should it be daggers and skulls and. . .I was trying to think of an antithesis for Offspring Who Crap Skittles, but failed. You know what I mean.

I feel like people read my blog (or any blog) because they want to (a) Be Entertained; (b) Be Informed; (c) Be Stalkers; or (d) Some Combination Thereof. Therefore, when I write, I do it first and foremost because it's what I DO. I like telling stories, and I like people saying, hey, that was funny/sad/off the chain/etc. (I don't think anyone I've ever known has used the expression "off the chain." Maybe they should.)

I'm completely getting off whatever point I'd started out trying to make with this. The point is, I'm not happy with my current lot in life. But at the same time, I feel like I can't complain about ANYTHING, because I have a stack of 8 resumes I've received in 3 days, which tells me, "Hey, Sarah. Quit your bitching, because even if you don't 'feel satisfied' by it, at least you have a job."

Yeah, at least I have a job. A job that's contract, so I have no benefits and no vacation time, so if I want to, I don't know, get married and go on a week's honeymoon, guess what? That just means a week of no pay. No one gives a fuck if I'm getting married. They're not going to pay me so I can have time off to do it.

Or time off to do anything. I feel like I'm over here, drowning in my own self-loathing and self-pity, but I can't take any time off because guess what? I have bills to pay. Bills that aren't going to understand that I just need an em-effing BREAK.

But guess what? I can't complain about it. I can't complain about anything. Because you know what happens then? My friend, The Universe, decides to say, "Oh yeah? Let me REALLY give you something to complain about."

I just want to be doing something that means something right now. This job means nothing to me but a paycheck. I don't even get any benefits, so there's an extra $400 a month in health insurance. Just for me.

I'm going under, and there's not a thing I can do about it. But I can write about it, and risk turning my little Corner of the Interwebz into a Bitch Fest, alienating anyone who might have been otherwise interested and diminishing my chances that someone will happen across my blog and give me a book deal.*

So there it is, people. Take it or leave it.

*Yes, I know this is not a thing that really happens to most people.

The One Where I Check My Library E-mail

As you all may or may not know/remember, along with my Day Job, I also have a job at a public library. Since I don't have a Masters of Library Science degree (yet) (?), I am a Page, which is half a step above the volunteers and a step above the people there performing community service.

What a page does is the grunt work. We check the books in, we shelve the books, stuff like that.

I love my library job. If I could work there as a Day Job, I'd do it in half a second. I work twice a week, 3.5 hours, and 4 hours every other Sunday, and I love it. Love. It.

Any kind of work in the public sector, though, comes with its share of crazy people. Like. . .legit crazy people. The library I worked at in high school had a guy waving around a gun outside one day. More than once, I walked into the bathroom to find this homeless (?) woman washing her hair. And yes. . .for some reason, people think that a library bathroom is an awesome place to have sex. (Hint: No. It's not. I don't know this because I've done it, but I know this because I know how dirty public library bathrooms are at their core. This is why the library I work at now has a staff bathroom in the back.)

Anyway, as an employee of the county, I have county e-mail I always forget I have. I opened it yesterday (Blogger will probably insist I published this on Thursday, since that's when I started it. Lies. It is currently Friday.) for the first time since the beginning-ish of June, and found that I had more than 400 e-mails.

I should note that the messages were not to ME, per se. . .they were sent to the entire listserv. I just happen to be on it, so a lot of the messages didn't actually apply to me at all. It was things like, "Hey, does anyone at any of the libraries have extra red glitter for the children's program this evening?" or "Hey, we're looking for this book that this patron requested. Has anyone seen it?" Plus, there are updates about training and special events and things of that nature.

I went through them all, skimming them, and saved a couple I thought were particularly interesting/funny/horrifying/etc.

Note: I have changed names and identifying details of the libraries. I mean. . .there are 20 libraries in the county system, and if you want to try to stalk me or someone else or whatever, your odds would not be good on being at the right library on the right day at the right time. I'm just saying. So the library call letters I'm using are fake. FYI.

First things first -- there were 12 e-mails about 12 different patrons that had trespassed on public library property. I didn't immediately get that when the e-mail said they were trespassed, that means they were banned that day. So between June 17 and July 19, 12 people were banned either from specific libraries or from all of them. Oh, and if you're intended on doing something to get banned from one of these libraries? Know that they get a picture of you, either from the police or elsewhere (I can't give away ALL our secrets!) and they e-mail it, along with your name, address, library card number, and any other identifying information, to ALL of the employees at ALL of the libraries. But, 12 people in 32 days?

Another e-mail I found funny. It came from the library where I work:

"Flash drive lady came back in today looking for... wait for it - -

her flash drive. We still don't have it."

Pretty much any librarian or library personnel you meet has a sarcastic streak when it comes to stupid patrons. And there are a lot of them.

We get a lot of mentally unstable people at the library as well. I guess maybe because there's not a lot else for them to do during the day.

"Guy on #3 [Note: that's computer #3]... kept turning around looking at me. When I asked him if there was something he needed or I could help him with, he said something I wasn't quite sure I heard well. So I went over to him and told him I couldn't hear him ...
He said something about not liking it but people talk about him ... yeah, the paranoid kind. He's also Mr. BO from Friday."

We get a lot (a LOT) of really smelly people in the library. Not sure why. And I love the nicknames these people give the patrons. Mr. BO, Flash Drive Lady. . .awesome.

This one was apparently actually sent to a patron. (Again, identifying details have been changed.) It's a delightful blend of being helpful and being passive-aggressive:

"Your Mississippi license is at the City Center Library. Please return the flashdrive you borrowed and pick up your license at the Reference Desk.
Thank you."

Heh. "We're holding your driver's license hostage. Bring us back our damn flashdrive."

"Hi All -
I had a patron the other night insist that she brought 2 books back (we all know how that goes!). They are already set to Long Overdue status. I know this is a pain, but would you please mind checking your shelves?? This woman was angry and claimed she spoke to someone at HFN who would "take care of it". Don't know if that's true or not, but I do know that she will make life difficult if I don't exhaust all options (again, we all know how that goes!).

The books are:
Name of Book by Author, barcode: (Barcode Number)
Name of Other Book by Another Author, barcode: (Barcode Number)

They are both African-American fiction. Your help is greatly appreciated!!"

Whenever a patron "insists" they returned something? 7 times out of 10 they are lying their face off. And these people get freaking MEAN!

And finally, this next one requires some backstory.

We have "regulars" at the library. People that are there all the time and that do things weird enough to where you notice that they're there all the time.

There's this one woman with long, long blonde hair who always wears this. . .floor-length velvet dress. She's always going through the classifieds and looking on craigslist, and I'm not entirely sure what it is she does, but I've heard her on more than one occasion on the phone in the foyer saying things like, "Hi, my name is Fran Gretel, and I have a business opportunity that will make you an insane amount of money in weeks. In the amount of time it has taken you to listen to this message, you could have doubled your income!"

She's a weird one.

And then we have this old woman (who, apparently, is a doctor of some kind) that camps out in this chair near the front door every. day. with her two laptop computers in front of her. I don't know what she's doing, but she's always there, in the same spot. This e-mail was a complaint about her:

"Subject: complaint regarding Dr. M (sp? aka the lady who camps out

in the comfy chairs in the front

Derek Lapin, Raleigh resident and frequent computer user said "I would like a chance to sit in one of the comfy chairs, but that lady is always camped out there - all day, everyday." He wants to know if there is a time limit for our comfy chairs."

Now, this guy I kind of agree with. That woman is a giant pain in the ass, taking up all that space. But apparently, those are the comfy chairs. I feel like maybe there SHOULD be a time limit for the comfy chairs.

So there you go. I may check my e-mail more frequently, now that I remember it's a thing and now that I know the hilarity that ensues in the inbox.

The One With the Picky (Ungrateful) Eaters

I work in the training department, and it's basically my job to keep track of the training people do so they are properly trained to do their jobs. I'm pretty sure I've told you this already. A part of being in the training area is that I coordinate the New Employee Orientation days, which includes getting together training materials and ordering lunch. I think I've referenced this before. . .all the pizza?

So, the lady who's here giving the training came up to my desk and said, "They want to know if Jersey Mike's delivers, if they can have sandwiches instead of pizza, because they were like, 'Pizza two days in a row?'"

I was. . .floored. I'm fairly certain that if someone offered to buy me lunch, anywhere, I'd be like, "Sure, great. Thank you!" If it were something I didn't like/didn't eat, then I'd say, "Oh, wow. That's nice of you, but I'm going to be having ______ for lunch." Maybe it's my Southern upbringing, I don't know. But that just seems awfully, awfully rude.

So I said (and, I wasn't actually sure this was true. But it sounded correct.) "I don't think they do delivery. . .I think they just do catering, and it's like a $50 minimum order." The lady looked startled and said, "Oh! OK. That's out."

(Note: I just checked their Web site, and it does not have a minimum order, but it also asks for 24 hours' notice. And I have a feeling they'd be like. . .3 lunches? That's it?")

She comes back and gives me what the people want: a large pizza, 1/2 ground beef, onions, and green peppers and 1/2 ground beef and pineapple. I say, "You know. . .usually we just offer them pepperoni and cheese." She laughed and said that since there were so few people, she decided to be accommodating. (She is, clearly, a lot nicer than I am.)

Then she told me that one of the ladies had said, "Well, at my OLD job, they gave us something different every day!"

I told the lady that it's like the one annoying new kid in high school that, every other word out of their mouth was, "Well, at my OLD school. . ." [I knew one of those. She was in the band and was convinced she was God's gift to clarinet performance. She sat primly in the first chair position, glaring at anyone else who dared sit in HER CHAIR, until the actual chair auditions when she was placed. . .6th. Out of 7. I feel like the fact that the band director always gave her first THIRD part (sorry for the original typo. . .), regardless of where she sat, should have been her first clue. Then she switched to bass clarinet, where she was 1st chair, by default, because she was the only bass clarinet player. Who was it that got the first chair spot? Oh yeah. . .that was me. :0) ]

Anyway, after I made that comparison, she laughed and said, "Yeah, and you want to say to them, 'Then go back to your old school!'"

So I knew she understood.

But seriously?

It's kind of like last week. My company has been working the people here a lot. Much overtime. . .like, 20-hour days. So they were buying some of the people lunch. Pizza, obviously.

One of the girls called up to my desk and was like, "Sarah. . .no one else wants to ask you this, so they made me do it. Would you go ask (the head boss) if, instead of pizza, they could just buy us a bucket of chicken? No fixings. . .and a loaf of bread?"

I laughed (you have to laugh), but went and asked. I don't actually know how that ended, because the head boss guy called down to where the woman had called me from to deal with it himself.

But honestly.

The One Where the FDA Still Hasn't Shown Up

Last weekend, I had a 4-day weekend. Yesterday, I only came into work for an hour, because I was feeling like death had sucker-punched me in the face. This adds up to working 3 days this week.

And I still need a vacation.

The thing about being a temp? They don't give you vacation. At least not paid vacation. No vacation, no sick days. . .At least not until you've been continuously employed by them for a year. Which I have not. So when I get sick? That's kind of tough. I can stay out, but I don't get paid.

Wah, wah, wah. At least I have a job, right?

I've mentioned the trials and tribulations of working at a company overseen by the FDA before. And I mentioned that they hadn't yet shown up.

They still have not shown up.

Every morning, my boss calls me:

Her: Has the FDA shown up?

Me: No.

Next day.

Her: Has the FDA shown up yet?

Me: No.

Next day.

Her: Has the FDA shown up yet?

Me: Yes.

Her: !!!!!!!????????!!!!!

Me: Just kidding.

(Um, no. I haven't actually done that. I value my life. Also, my job.)

But the FDA has made my work life so ridiculous that I've started referring to them as the F'inDA.

A couple months back, I took a work course entitled "FDA Preparedness." Today, I'm taking a 2-hour course entitled "Interacting with the FDA."

Holy crap, you guys. These bitches are so hardcore, we have to take a class on how to SPEAK to them. A 2-hour class!

Obviously, I am in the wrong line of work.

I still want to work for the F'inDA. I want people to take a total of 4 hours of classes just to be prepared for the offhanded chance I walk into their business. I want a badge that I show to people and they go, "Uh, oh, um, let me call the plant manager."

But for now, I'll just learn how to speak to them. For 2 hours.

The irony I'd really like to see happen is for the F'inDA to show up WHILE THE CLASS IS BEING HELD. There would be no one here at the front desk, and they'd just be sitting there, while we're all huddled in a classroom learning how to talk to them.

They've even set up a rotation so that when I'm at lunch, someone's covering the front. This has annoyed me a little because now, I can't leave or come back any earlier or later than 12 or 1. Like, I can't leave at 12:15 and come back at 1:15.

Minor annoyances. I'll live.

I just wish the F'inDA would show up. . .

The One Where I Took a Photo

Listy McListenstein

Day 09 - a photo you took

I have taken many photos in my life. Many. If I had a good camera right now, I'd be taking a lot more. I don't have my file of photos with me right now, but I'm sure I can find one somewhere. . .

This was taken over Easter 2008. That's my sister on the left and her friend Meghan on the right. We'd gone to a park. . .somewhere or another and I have 2 photo albums of pictures from that trip. Good times.

D and I are going to my friend Carol's wedding this weekend. . .should be fun. I haven't bought a wedding gift yet because. . .well, because I'm not rolling in money, and nothing on the registry is less than $40. I'm thinking gift card.

I'd bought a new dress to wear, but then I unearthed another one from my closet that I'd bought at a consignment shop and never worn. I modeled it for D and he said, "That. That is what you're wearing to the wedding."

(And you know, when I type it out, it sounds creepy and demanding. It wasn't. He was enthusiastic about the dress. It looks. . .well, it looks awesome. And I've never worn it. So there's that.)

Had a weird thing happen when I was working at the library last night. I was sitting on the floor, sorting magazines (as you do), and this guy with an accent (Russian?) was sitting there reading newspapers. He strikes up a conversation with me, nothing weird about it, and then at the end, he's like, "It was nice talking to you, Sarah."

. . . . . .????

Then he looks at my nametag for verification and says, "Yeah, I've seen you here before."

. . . . .????????!!!!!!!

Super creepy.

I told the security guard about it before I left, but, unfortunately, I didn't say anything about it before the guy left, so I had absolutely no description except that he was a dude and he had an accident.

I'd be an absolutely terrible witness to a crime. Legitimately. I'd be like, "Um, someone ran off with someone's purse. . .I think it was a man that stole it, but it could have been a butch woman. He/she was. . .somewhere between 5'6 and 6'5, I think they had brown hair, but it could have been blonde, and they were wearing. . .clothes."

I just need to stay out of sketchy neighborhoods.

Oh, and if you're interested, this is what I'm going to make for dinner tonight. Yum.