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luciabMan, oh, man. There's no reason at all for me to be as exhausted as I am. I got enough sleep last night (well, according to the clock, anyway. If I'm this tired maybe it wasn't really enough somehow.) And my legs feel like they've been beaten with a stick, they hurt so bad. I shelved some books this morning, and I swear they were all on the bottom shelf, but geez. It wasn't that many.
I've also gotten to.... recognize, shall we say.... my first homeless regular patron of our library. Not that he's mine in any way at all, but he's the first one I've come to recognize. Lots of times I don't even have to see him at all to know he's there. He can be a good 40 feet away, around a corner out of sight, and I haven't even seen him all day, but the minute I step off the elevator I can smell him. Very distinctive odor, too. Nia called him "whiffy" but I think he has long since passed "whiffy" and can now safely be called "odiferous." He's rapidly approaching "stench" on my meter.
The main reason I am so aware of him is that "his" seat-- where he sits every day, all day-- is near the periodicals section, which is my domain. I get to keep the newspapers and magazines in order. Last weekend, it seemed that someone went through and pulled out the local section from each day's issue of the Raleigh paper, and we keep three months worth of back issues. Putting them all back in order meant that I had to be within about 15 feet of him. I went in to the library an hour before it was open so as to minimize time spent that close to him. I threatened a "drive by Febreze-ing" and boy, do I wish I could really do it. That, however, would be intimidating and might discourage his use of the library, and I am learing in my "Foundations of Librarianship" class that public libraries don't do that sort of thing.
There is an article that was written in the '70's by a Kentucky librarian (turns out he's friends of friends back in Lexington) that says that public libraries have always really been "elitist." Maybe I'll call the author and ask if he has any non-elitist suggestions.
Miranda has a new favorite toy-- a grape. It might be the one she hoooked with a claw and pulled out of the garbage can, or one she batted off my plate, or the one she got a couple of days ago and managed to hide in a corner, but her supply of grapes is getting scary. I have this awful dread that I'll get up in the night and step on one in the dark and freak out because it'd be all cold and wet and slimy. Ewww. And besides the visceral pleasure that would cause me, it would also stain whatever rug it happenedn to be on, because they are red grapes. I know this because I stepped on one, though not in my bare feet.
Well, there may be more news that's fit to print, but I can't think of it right now.
I've also gotten to.... recognize, shall we say.... my first homeless regular patron of our library. Not that he's mine in any way at all, but he's the first one I've come to recognize. Lots of times I don't even have to see him at all to know he's there. He can be a good 40 feet away, around a corner out of sight, and I haven't even seen him all day, but the minute I step off the elevator I can smell him. Very distinctive odor, too. Nia called him "whiffy" but I think he has long since passed "whiffy" and can now safely be called "odiferous." He's rapidly approaching "stench" on my meter.
The main reason I am so aware of him is that "his" seat-- where he sits every day, all day-- is near the periodicals section, which is my domain. I get to keep the newspapers and magazines in order. Last weekend, it seemed that someone went through and pulled out the local section from each day's issue of the Raleigh paper, and we keep three months worth of back issues. Putting them all back in order meant that I had to be within about 15 feet of him. I went in to the library an hour before it was open so as to minimize time spent that close to him. I threatened a "drive by Febreze-ing" and boy, do I wish I could really do it. That, however, would be intimidating and might discourage his use of the library, and I am learing in my "Foundations of Librarianship" class that public libraries don't do that sort of thing.
There is an article that was written in the '70's by a Kentucky librarian (turns out he's friends of friends back in Lexington) that says that public libraries have always really been "elitist." Maybe I'll call the author and ask if he has any non-elitist suggestions.
Miranda has a new favorite toy-- a grape. It might be the one she hoooked with a claw and pulled out of the garbage can, or one she batted off my plate, or the one she got a couple of days ago and managed to hide in a corner, but her supply of grapes is getting scary. I have this awful dread that I'll get up in the night and step on one in the dark and freak out because it'd be all cold and wet and slimy. Ewww. And besides the visceral pleasure that would cause me, it would also stain whatever rug it happenedn to be on, because they are red grapes. I know this because I stepped on one, though not in my bare feet.
Well, there may be more news that's fit to print, but I can't think of it right now.
