Card-carrying literates

Being of a literary nature, I tend to assume everyone likes to read. I know what happens when you assume, but I can't help it. Everyone should read. Of course, I'm married to someone who stopped reading in the early 90s, but I still have hope.

So imagine my pain when the ball of fire flat our refused to go to the library.

In his defense, we're not usually library people. I tend to buy books and keep them, in my library, which has outgrown our space. But, we're on this great new money-saving venture to recoup our losses after thousands of dollars have been spent on medical bills. Yes, my fault, but whatever.

Like my co-blogger Jane, we don't believe in buying shit if we can't afford it and we always have money in the savings. But we've tapped the savings pretty hard this year, so off to the library we go.

I had my list. I picked up Gilead, a Pulitzer Prize winner that I didn't catch the first time I was reading Pulitzers. Then I went to check out the other books on the shelves. This library carries a shitload -- and I stress SHITLOAD -- of romance novels. What that says about the general readers in the area, I dare not assume. Because of the overwhelming abundance, I was forced to pick out a romance-esque novel. I know, if I had a friend who lived on a bridge... whatever.

Meanwhile, the ball of fire has gone crazy over in the kid's section. A pile of kids books were precariously swaying on the table as he ran around whispering to himself, "Oh my gosh, I have this book at home, but wait, I don't have THIS ONE!!"

There was no way we could take all of those home, but what the hell, we're at the library where reading is love, so why not let him look?

Then I caught the stare. You know that stare. The one that only a blue-haired, dried up librarian can give? Evil red eyes. Arms crossed over drooping bosom which is swaddled in a cardigan button up. Hip cocked. Sensible shoes. Poised to put an end to all fun.

That look.

I smiled in return. She nodded at the BOF. I scowled back at her, but collected my child with a whisper about going home and promised gum in exchange for his unprotesting acquiescence.

As we were checking out our meager six books, I overhear the Nazi bitch tell the other librarian that she needed to "straighten up the children's area as there were numerous books unshelved." I snorted.

Oh just you wait, friend. Next trip, we're chewing our gum before we arrive...