Fragile Paper

12:00 PM
No one has come in the library at all today, and Macy doesn’t start back until next week.

12:07 PM
No one reads books anymore.

12:45 PM
Well, I’m going to read a book if no one else does. Ha. Take that, cruel, illiterate world!

1:00 PM
Still trying to figure out which book to read. This one has a pretty spine. What is it?
“The Lifecycle and Habits of the Tropical Leech.”

1:01 PM
No. Too many… illustrations.

1:08 PM
I’ve settled on reading a history book. “The March of Folly,” by Barbara W. Tuchman. I haven’t read it in a while. And after quoting it to that nitwit in the police department, I think it deserves the attention.

1:20 PM
There’s a letter in this book! Someone left personal correspondence in a library book!

1:21 PM
Well, at least they didn’t write the personal correspondence in the book. I’ll put the letter in the lost and found box.

1:22 PM
But what if it’s important? What if it’s a coded letter that the government needs to discover secret spy things?

1:25 PM
It is my public duty to read this letter and possibly, if it’s of dire consequence, deliver it to the appropriate government official.

1:30 PM
I will go make some tea to calm my nerves, and then I shall read this letter.

1:38 PM
What if the letter is in code? What if I can’t tell that it’s a secret message? What if it’s so secret that I can’t see the secret?

1:42 PM
It’ll sit there. Secretly. And I’ll be driven mad and drool and finally die of curiosity. They’ll find me in the library. Dead. Foaming at the mouth.

1:43 PM
And I’ll never know the secret.

1:47 PM
I live in a library! There must be many books on code-breaking in here! I shall go find them and have them on hand for when I read the letter!

1:59 PM
I hope the letter is in Morse Code, because that appears to be the main topic of all these books. Or binary.

2:00 PM
I hope it’s not in binary. I feel ill just looking at the examples in the book. All those zeroes and ones.

2:03 PM
Well, here’s one on invisible ink. It’s got drawings and diagrams and pictures. Oh my.

3:00 PM
Alright! I’m ready. I shall read this letter, and then I shall break its crafty code like a trained spy! I saw a movie where they did that, and it looked quite simple. I think I can do it.

3:02 PM
I do the newspaper crosswords every morning. That’s practically code-breaking. I have experience.

3:05 PM
Ok. I have the letter in front of me. I have as many reference books on devilish codes that I could find. I’m ready.

3:06 PM
Just after I make another cup of tea.

3:15 PM
Right. Now. To open the letter. This is exciting!

3:18 PM
It’s …in English. Perhaps there’s some sort of message if I string together the first letters of every word? A secret sentence, perhaps?

3:20 PM
No. Damn. This is a let down. Well, I might as well read the actual letter, since I’ve gotten this far.

3:21 PM
It’s a love letter, to some girl named Katie. It looks quite new, too, so it’s a recent love letter. I didn’t think people wrote these anymore. My daughter and her husband certainly never wrote them. They seem to communicate to one another by short memo sticky notes stuck on the refrigerator whenever one of them happens to be home.

3:22 PM
Which begs the question of how on earth they had a daughter. Perhaps very suggestive sticky notes?

3:27 PM
Sam used to write me love letters like this one. I have them in a box somewhere—where did I put that box? I think I’ll go find it.

4:07 PM
What was it I was looking for?

4:09 PM
Right, letters from Sam.

4:33 PM
Ha! Here it is, under my couch. Victorious! Victorious! I shall do a victory dance! I came, I searched, I found! I put it here for safekeeping. Haha, or sofakeeping.

4:34 PM
Hahaha.

4:35 PM
The cats left the room in panic. Probably because they realized I would vanquish them if they stayed.

4:40 PM
These letters start thirty-seven years ago… They’re all thin and fragile-feeling.

4:45 PM
My Dear Meredith,
I write these words for your eyes alone…
Hmm. I’d forgotten that we were soppier than a drenched dishcloth. It’s nice to see my real name written out, though. It was a wrench, giving it up, since Sam always told me that it was the name for me. Goddess of the sea, he said, because I was on the swim team.
I hope you don’t mind my writing you a letter, as I know we haven’t known each other for very long. I just found myself thinking about you, and wondering what you were doing.
Ha! As if I minded. The day I got this in the mail, I nearly blew half my brain from delight.

5:00 PM
I’d better close the library. Then I’ll read more of those letters…I’d forgotten how many there were.

5:08 PM
Ha! Here’s the first one he wrote after we were married…
My Dear Meredith,
Now that we’re married, perhaps writing you is a bit silly. I know you’ll laugh at me, but I want to always write to you, right up until the day I die. Writing to you makes me think about the things that are important to me—and by writing to you, I think I will be a better recorder of everything I do than if I simply wrote it down in my log book. I will hide these letters for you to find—in your favorite books, maybe! I hope that will keep it a little more interesting over the years…
I miss finding letters from Sam in my tea kettle in the morning. One time he hid one in the bottom of the bird feeder. It took me ages to find it, because I’d always top off the bird feed before it got low enough to see the envelope.

5:20 PM
And here’s an even later one! I always meant to put these in chronological order. Funny how I never got around to it.
Good manners, no matter what you say, are important. As a civil engineer, I feel I must be as civil to other people as I can! Haha! Do you get it, Meredith? I know you don’t like puns—but, as we both have noticed, you’re starting to make them, too. I think puns are contagious. I hope my following sketch of the bridge we’re building at work makes up for my bad sense of humor, Sea Goddess…
And here is the perfect scale drawing of the small bridge over the river near our house. And yes, the sketch of me on one side—I can tell it’s me, because he always drew me with a steaming teapot on my head—waits while a figure that was supposed to be him—which he signified with a heart drawn on his sleeve—works on building the bridge towards me.
I’d forgotten this drawing.

6:00 PM
And here’s nearly the last letter.
I’ve been a bridge and road-building engineer for nearly twenty years, and I still can’t seem to build a little tree house for our daughter. I’ll do that this weekend.
And he did.
Would you like a tree house, too? Full of books? And teapots?
Yes, of course I’d love a tree house.
When we are old, I will build us a tree house in the back yard. It will have a drafting table for me, and a bookcase for you.
You never got old.

At Least One Person Wishes I Weren't Dead

11:00 AM
The world seems to be made of paperwork.

11:05 AM
And I think I’ve filled out 80% of it in the last two hours. I think I might’ve signed away my soul in one of those papers.

11:07 AM
Why they need my name, address, and phone number written down fifty times is beyond me. Don’t they have computer systems that are supposed to cut down on this nonsense?

11:45 AM
I have been in this waiting room for longer than is healthy. I think the atoms in my bottom have rearranged to conform to this shockingly uncomfortable chair. Why do they make waiting room furniture so uncomfortable?

11:46 AM
Perhaps they hope it’ll make at least half the people in the waiting room just leave, and then they don’t have to deal with them. No wonder doctor’s waiting rooms are so miserable. They’re trying to whittle down their clientele.

11:57 AM
Water dispenser. Coffee dispenser. NO TEA DISPENSER. Why?

12:18 PM
I think I’ve broken a personal record of time-passed-without-drinking-tea. That’s including the time I spend sleeping between cups of tea.

12:21 PM
At last! They’re taking me to go see Mr. Yilmaz.

12:30 PM
…But not, apparently, to let him see me. We’re behind one of those big one-way window things, and he’s on the other side. He looks as though he died during the night and they reanimated him for a scientific experiment. The blazing fluorescent lighting isn’t helping, either. He looks older than ever.

12:45 PM
Well, can I go talk to him? I’ll ask this nice police officer…
No. I can’t. Why not?

12:53 PM
Enemy of the state, my foot. He wears patched tweed, for goodness’ sake. They ought to be arresting men like the one who pushed a bookshelf on me and lit it on fire.

1:45 PM
Finally! They’re letting me go talk to him in his cell.

2:09 PM
“Hello, Altan.” He looks even more dreadful close up. “You look dreadful.”
“I haven’t slept since they arrested me, Mrs. Evans.” He sounds awful, too, like he’s got asbestos stuck in his throat.
“Why not? Too worried to sleep? I’m sure they’ll let you out if you’re innocent.” Hint hint. Are you innocent? Now would be a good time to tell me if you’re a radical terrorist with strange religious compulsions.
“They haven’t put me in a room with a bed, Mrs. Evans. And I’ve been questioned every half hour.”
Good grief. How long has he been in here, anyways? “How long have they done that?”
“I don’t know. They took away my pocket watch that my father gave to me, and his father gave to him, and his father—“
This ought to prove it. Terrorists don’t cry. “Are you a terrorist?” There’s no harm in making sure.
“No! I just sell…I just sell coffee! For forty years, I sold coffee! I’ve been here since the ‘70s, and I never had any trouble until today…”

2:30 PM
So. Apparently he went to the airport to greet his Turkish brother, who was visiting for a week. His brother didn’t show up, and Altan was disappointed and wasn’t watching where he was going and he crashed his coffee cart into an airport officer and scalded the man with Turkish Coffee.

2:43 PM
Perhaps Turkish Coffee counts as an explosive device.

2:45 PM
Altan didn’t think that was funny.

4:00 PM
And now I’m waiting outside yet another office. Trying to convince someone important that the only thing Altan has terrorized is a can of coffee beans, which he boiled to death and fed to the masses of coffee-drinking zombies. On a related note, I still haven’t had any tea since 5:something this morning, and I think I’m twitching with withdrawal symptoms.

4:58 PM
It’s nearly five in the evening. Meaning, I have other things to do with my life than sit around waiting for some prissy government official to finish signing his name on a sheet of pointless paper before he can see me. The office door is just over there. I’ve been waiting for nearly two hours.

5:00 PM
There is only one small and rather air-headed secretary between me and that office door.

5:03 PM
Haha! I have made a dash for the door! The knob is unlocked! The element of surprise is on my side!
He certainly looks surprised.

5:04 PM
Fear me, for I am a tea-deprived librarian! The most fearsome of my species! Queen of books and therefore knowledge!
“What tyranny is this?!”
He appears to be unable to speak. Just as well.
“Why have you put an innocent man in chains, when many more wrongdoers deserving of such treatment roam free? Why haven’t you arrested men who fling bookshelves at old ladies? Does Mr. Yilmaz LOOK like a terrorist to you? He is sixty-five years old! He has been in the U.S. for nearly forty years, selling coffee at such a low price that he struggles to get by in the world! And you just had to make his life all the harder, didn’t you, you tyrant of the governmental system!”
“Ma’am, I—“
“Do not patronize me! Ah, yes, I see what you are! A nitwit! A cog in the merciless machine! A wooden-headed bureaucrat! Do you KNOW what is said about wooden-headedness, you tyrannical paperpusher?!”
“No, I—“
“In the mighty ageless words of Barbara Tuchman, or at least close to the mighty words of Barbara Tuchman, for I have not read her books in over a decade, ‘Wooden-headedness is the source of self-deception, and is a factor that plays a remarkably large role in government!’”
“I really don’t see—“
“I SEE. I see your fault! Do you realize your self-deception?! You’ve arrested the first man who’s skin is the right color for a middle-eastern menace, and you have bunged him in a small room and performed sleep deprivation upon him and I SHALL TELL THE WORLD!”
“We’re just processing him like every other person we pick up for—“
“So this is not the first time you have made this mistake! I SEE. Do you know what else Barbara Tuchman says about people like you? ‘Wooden-headedness is the refusal to benefit from experience!’ How many other innocent coffee sellers have you waylaid as they went about their business?!”
Sam would have been proud of me.

5:10 PM
They’ve agreed to release Altan. And they’re very sorry. Hahahahaha.

5:15 PM
They’ve even paid for a taxi to take Altan and me home.

5:16 PM
And I got Altan’s pocket watch back. I think he’s in a state of shock.
“Mrs. Evans, you are a good and kindly spirit. I’m sorry that I said you’d come to haunt me. I wish that you were not dead!”
Well, that's very nice. But this is a belief I will have to break him of.

What Kind of Police Department is This?

11:54 PM
I can’t sleep.

11:55 PM
I’ve been wooed by an outlaw. And at last, he has been arrested.

11:55 PM
I’m like Bonnie Parker.

12:00 AM
Tea. I love tea. And yes, I have some cottage cheese. I have to think about this.

12:01 AM
Alright I’ve thought and it hasn’t got any better and I can’t find my dentures anywhere.

12:02 AM
I’ll starve with food right in front of me. I can see the headlines now.

12:05 AM
Toothless Woman Found Dead in Library Backrooms.

12:06 AM
How many places can one misplace one’s teeth?

12:10 AM
It’s true. I’ll slowly starve with cottage cheese right in front of me. Old and alone with only the regretful knowledge that I’ve been fraternizing with a criminal. Perhaps if I retraced my steps I’ll find my teeth.

12:11 AM
Alright. I was getting ready for bed. Argh! I can’t even remember taking my teeth out—

12:12 AM
Oh.

12:12 AM
Ahem. I guess I’ll just go eat my cheese then.

12:13 AM
Teeth: found. Solution to problem of Altan Yilmaz being arrested for suspected terrorism: probably doesn’t exist.

12:15 AM
I shall go see him in the morning.

5:00 AM
It is morning and I’m going to go see Altan Yilmaz at the city jail. I wonder if the bus goes directly to the jail? I shall look at my bus map.

5:03 AM
It does.

5:04 AM
Which is both convenient and vaguely disturbing.

7:32 AM
Waiting for buses and riding on buses and everything to do with buses makes me want to savage something with my umbrella.

8:00 AM
They won’t let me in the jail! It doesn’t open to the public until 9. Well! I’ll just stand here then! Is anyone going to offer to bring a chair out in the cold for the little old lady?

8:05 AM
No, I didn’t think so. I guess I’ll have to stand here and freeze for an hour.

8:47 AM
“Excuse me, ma’am, but can I help you?”
No, you twit, apparently you can’t. It took over three-quarters of an hour of intense glaring at you to even make you look up and feel guilty enough to come offer some assistance.
And even now, you’re talking to me through the glass door.

8:48 AM
Breathe… I must be diplomatic…
“I’ve come to see Altan Yilmaz. He said he was in this jail.” Let me in or I will be fierce with my umbrella.
“I’m sorry, ma’am, but the jail visiting hours don’t start until 9 AM.”
“I am not visiting! I am investigating!”

8:50 AM
Ha! That’s got him! He looks mortified! As well he should be, making an old lady sit around out in the cold damp for this long…
“I’m so sorry—you’re a government official?”
Well, the government pays for my position… “Yes, I’m employed by the government.”
“Please, come in!”

8:52 AM
I wonder if he meant am I an important government employee.

8:55 AM
Oh well. I won’t feel guilty in five minutes, because they would have let me in at 9 anyways.

8:57 AM
They offered refreshments, but they didn’t have any cheese and crackers.

8:58 AM
Or tea.

8:59 AM
What kind of police department is this?

I Might've Died Between Now and Then

10:03 AM
Nothing has happened today.

10:05 AM
Still nothing.

10:06 AM
I wonder if Altan will come in today. He hasn’t come in since he came by to apologize for never fixing my heater.

10:07 AM
Which was two days ago—a long time when you’re old. I might’ve died between now and then.

10:09 AM
What if I die before he comes again? What if he finds me flat out on the floor, dead of a heart attack, cold as ice?

10:10 AM
Then he’ll be sorry. What does he do all day, anyway? He sells coffee. That hardly anyone buys.

10:11 AM
How does he live? He only sells coffee for a quarter a cup. I bought coffee from him one time and it nearly blew the roof out of my mouth. Nasty, strong-flavored stuff. I hear you ‘acquire a taste’ for it. What’s the point of acquiring a taste for something you disliked when you tried it the first time?

10:12 AM
Perhaps he’s desperately trying to sell coffee to make ends meet, and so he can’t come see me. Perhaps he’s got family back in Turk-land that he’s scrambling to feed with a measly income which is nevertheless a fortune to Turk-land people. What’s the exchange rate for Turkish money and the dollar?

10:30 AM
I called the bank. The exchange rate is 1 Turkish Leera is equal to .627 U.S. dollars.

10:32 AM
Lira. Turkish Lira.

10:33 AM
So he’s making less money here than he would in Turkey.

10:34 AM
Why is he even here? He was here before I moved to this miserable town. What is his purpose? Perhaps he came thinking that coffee selling would be a bigger business here in the U.S. than in Turkey? Perhaps he was hoping to send back money to his starving family?

10:42 AM
What if he’s married? And has twelve children? And eats dogs for food?

10:45 AM
I never should have trusted him!

10:46 AM
That’s what I get for falling for a foreign man: a coffee-selling, married-with-twelve-children surprise. Serves me right.

11:00 AM
Someone’s just come in the library. Looks like a student who’s just come in here on accident.

11:01 AM
Well, he’ll just have to figure out the library on his own. I’m too heartbroken over that foreign, heart-stealing scoundrel to bother with explaining the Dewey Decimal System.

11:02 AM
Not that this boy seems to care. Here he comes. Probably to ask me what are all these strange rectangular objects made of paper are. Kids these days wouldn’t know a book if they read one. Which they wouldn’t.
“Hey, where’s the history section?” My name is not Hey. I think I shall not answer him.

11:03 AM
“HEY, WHERE…IS…THE…HISTORY—“
“Shhh! This is a library!” Hmph, where are those little library rules pamphlets we’re supposed to give people—aha, there they are. I’ll give him one of these. Not that he’ll read it.
“I want to know where the history section is.” My, he sounds petulant.
“Over there. In the aisle that reads ‘history’ in the big block letters.” I’ll point to help him.

11:04 AM
Ah, peace at last.

11:05 AM
What would a scrawny little high school kid want with history books? He’d better not be writing in my books.

11:08 AM
I wish the bookshelves didn’t go all the way to the ceiling so that I could see what he was doing.

11:15 AM
I can’t stand it anymore!

11:17 AM
Ah. He’s reading. He doesn’t appear to have a pen or pencil in his hand, and he’s even turning the pages right so they don’t tear… Well. Just because he behaves when I look at him doesn’t mean he’s not whipping out a highlighter just as soon as I turn my back…

12:00 PM
Still no sign book misuse. But that is no excuse to be lax on my lookout! I must be vigilant.

12:02 PM
I’m getting a bit stiff crouching behind this bookshelf.

12:05 PM
The library phone is ringing! No one ever calls the—

12:05 PM
Ack! I’m stuck! I’m stuck with my knees bent and my back hunched!

12:06 PM
By the time I hobble to the phone it’ll have stopped ringing—that boy is looking at me funny.

12:06 PM
HA! I made it!
“Mrs. Evans at the John G. Oden Public Library speaking. What is it you want?”
“Ms. Evans?”
“Mrs. Evans. I’m a widow. What do you want?”
“It’s me, Mrs. Evans. Altan Yilmaz.”

12:07 PM
HE CALLED ME ON THE TELEPHONE!
“Mr. Yilmaz. Couldn’t you have dropped by? This is a business line.” It’s not like the library is very far, after all…
“Mrs. Evans, I didn’t have anyone else to call…”
Well that is NOT flattering. Huh. I think I shall hang up on him and he can grovel all he likes and I shall NEVER LET MYSELF BE MELTED AGAIN.
“Mrs. Evans, I’ve been arrested.”

12:30 PM
I need some tea.

I Have a Library to Run

5:00 AM

Ah, spring is here! The weather is pleasant, for once in this miserable little pit of a town, and there are flowers everywhere! Well, dandelions, anyways. I never minded dandelions. Some people get so worked up over a little yellow flower in their perfect green squares of lawn. Strange, neurotic people.

5:08 AM

I left the windows open last night in the building to air out the stuffiness. I’m not supposed to leave windows open over night—burglars might get in.

5:10 AM

Just checked under the bed and in the bathroom. No suspicious men in black ski masks that I could see.

5:11 AM

It’s always nice to look under the bed and not find a burglar. An everyday pleasure, you might say.

5:14 AM

Like tea. I remember I tried to give up tea for Lent one year.

5:15 AM

Why do religions always demand that you give up something? It’s ridiculous. I like tea; why should I have to give it up? Is happiness against religious text?

5:20 AM

Everything is yellow! Someone snuck in the library and painted everything yellow! I hate the color yellow! Whoever did this will di—

5:21 AM

Oh.

5:21 AM

It’s pollen. From leaving the windows open to let in the nice spring air. Well, there’s nice spring air now.

5:24 AM

And also nice spring pollen. This is going to take ages to clean up.

7:46 AM

HA! I may be old, but I can still dust and sweep up a storm!

8:00 AM

Someone is knocking on the door. The library doesn’t open until 9! The nerve…

8:05 AM

They still haven’t gone away. I suppose I shall have to DEAL WITH THEM. I shall need my umbrella.

8:07 AM

“BACK you devil who does not read the sign on the door that says we are not open until—YOU!!!”

It is Altan Yilmaz! Heart-breaker! Scoundrel! The sort of man women write advice columns about!

I shall whack him with my umbrella.

8:08 AM

There. I have accomplished something Good for womanhood today.

8:09 AM

ACK! He’s coming in! He’s coming in the library! And using his coffee cart as a buffer—I can’t reach him with my umbrella!

“Mrs. Evans! You…you are dead!” He looks choked up. I don’t care. I am a stone. I am chilled to his affections.

8:10 AM

And…he’s crying…

“Mrs. Evans, I’m so sorry I didn’t fix your heater that night before…before you were murdered! And now your spirit has come to haunt me for my failure!” Good lord, he’s on his knees…

“Please forgive me!” He looks very sincere.

8:11 AM

No! I am stone! Chilled stone!

8:15 AM

I’ll just give him some tea and send him on his way. Well, I’ll make him leave at 9. Because at 9, I have a library to run.

I Shall Be a Temptress

5:30 AM
I was able to contact Macy. She was rather excitable at first over the phone--kept calling me her 'friend' that had finally gotten in contact with her.

5:32 AM
The excitement died down rather once she figured out it was me. BUT! She has agreed to come back to work. Excellent. I can't be doing all these heavy-lifting duties by myself. I can't even reach the top shelf. The books came in a couple days ago; I've been busily filling in the bottom half of the shelves. It fills me with a deep sense of satisfaction to see all the books neatly filling those awful gaping holes where books should be.

8:09 AM
And what do people do? They insist upon coming here and making MORE gaps in the shelves. Go buy your own books!

8:11 AM
Few things are more horrendous than an unreturned book. Not returning books is where all evil begins.

8:12 AM
Because once you don't return books, you figure there's no harm in taking other things and not returning them. When you don't return a library book, you're breaking a PROMISE. It's stamped into every library book. The due date promise. And once you break that promise...you can break any promise.

8:14 AM
Therefore, not returning library books should end in a far more severe penalty than a 50 cent fine.

8:15 AM
In fact, I shall add to my list of requirements I made all those months ago. I found the list in my desk.

6.) Thou shalt return books or I shall hunt thou down with an axe. Or a scythe... I shall be...the Grim Reader.

9:00 AM
Stacking books into shelves doesn't work if a cat is asleep in the back of them.

9:01 AM
I'll have to go to the store and get some hydrogen peroxide. Ow.

10:13 AM
I have made a successful venture to the store and back. No one noticed I was gone. No one assumes that there's no librarian in a library; they just assume that, if they can't see a librarian, the librarian is hidden behind some shelf or other.

10:15 AM
I would have been to the store and back sooner if I'd ridden my bike, but my knee made an unpleasant popping noise when I tried to get on it, so I walked. And every step I made, it popped again.

10:16 AM
Don't people shoot horses when their knees don't work properly?

10:28 AM
I just looked it up. They either shoot the horse or they sell it to a glue manufacturer. The book had pictures and everything.

10:29 AM
I need tea to wash away images of horse anatomy that was never designed to see the light of day.

10:35 AM
Let's see, what do we have here? Numi tea. I've never had it before--I bought it on a whim. Whim--whimsy, whimsical. Related to the older word 'whimwham,' which means 'fanciful object.' The saving grace of the internet is that it has things like online etymology dictionaries.

10:37 AM
Unicorns are whimsical. I wonder if they'd get shot once their knees gave in?

10:38 AM
I must think happy thoughts. Like tea.

10:40 AM
Good heavens, there are instructions on how to make the tea on the back of every Numi tea packet!

On the back of the Orange Spice tea, it says...let me see, where are my glasses...I know I just had them a moment ago because I was reading the list of requirements earlier this morning...

10:43 AM
Oh god! What if I left them in the grocery store? What if I never get them back? I've only got one pair! I'm a librarian, I can't afford new glasses!

10:44 AM
And new glasses are all made into stupid designs! With pink swirls on the rims!

10:45 AM
I found them. In my breast pocket.

10:46 AM
Ahem. "Moonlight Orange Spice tea. For the Perfect Cup: Pull fresh water from the orange grove spring."

...We haven't got any orange groves up here. Or springs, for that matter. Of course, the instructions do specify THE orange grove spring. Perhaps making this tea involves some sort of epic journey.

"(otherwise, drinking water will do)." Oh. How boring. "Bring to a boil--" what idiot doesn't know that making tea requires boiling water?--"and pour over a sachet of Moonlight Spice." No, I think I'll pour it into an empty teacup and see how that tastes.

"Steep 5-7 minutes. Due to the delicacy of the white tea, careful attention is needed to capture the full taste." Hmm.

10:55 AM
I don't think this teabag is for me. Perhaps another one? Let's see..."Ruby Chai: Tempt water to a boil..." Now, this is more like it.
I shall be a temptress. I am wearing a skirt; skirts are tempting.

10:56 AM
I've also undone one button on my shirt. Now, what is it that temptresses do? Ah, yes. They sing. That's what the sirens did in the Odyssey. The library is empty, too, so...

11:02 AM
There was one man on the a computer over in a corner I couldn't see. It's ok, though, he left soon after I started singing.

11:04 AM
How long, I wonder, does it take to tempt water in a boil? It doesn't even look mildly interested in me. Not even the faintest bubble.

11:10 AM
I give up. I've tried. Now I'm going to return to the tried and true method of torturing it with intense heat until it boils.

11:20 AM
Ah, the peace and tranquility of docile water and a tea bag.

I'm Going to Raise Hell

5:30 AM
It is strange to wake up inside the library. It's not a particularly attractive building, even the back rooms. Linoleum floors, cinder block walls, fake wood counter tops in the staff kitchen.

5:32 AM
Still, anything is better than SunnyDay Retirement Home, where Every Day is Bright with Possibility.

5:34 AM
Possibility of some old person turning up their toes, most likely. I wonder why retirement homes are all named to sound like kindergarten buildings. Stick the two next to one another and you probably wouldn't be able to tell the difference.

5:35 AM
Unless you went inside, of course. Kindergarteners look different from people who are 80+ years old. Fact of life.

5:38 AM
Zeppelin just knocked over the tea. Not just the cup of tea, but the whole tray with the teapot, tea cup, sugar, and milk.

5:39 AM
And the plate of cheese and crackers and apples.

5:40 AM
I shall have to kill him and sacrifice him to the library gods. Perhaps they'll take pity and replenish the book supply.

5:41 AM
Except I can't kill him. I've only got two cats; I mustn't waste them.

6:00 AM
The mess has been cleaned up, the cat locked in the book return box until I think he's learned his lesson, and now I have a fresh pot of tea. Well! Not a bad morning after all.

7:30 AM
I've just got a huge box from a UPS man! This really is quite exciting--it must be the books ! I didn't even have to sacrifice my cat.

7:35 AM
Now I just have to get the wretched thing open. There appears to be a lack of sharp objects in the library to cut through the tape on the box. No scissors, no box cutter, no letter opener... Perhaps if I try stabbing the tape with a pencil or pen, I can make a hole and pull it apart from there with my hands?

7:38 AM
No.

8:00 AM
I can't believe I'm being foiled by a box covered in tape. I tried prying the tape up with my fingers, but my grip is too weak. I never knew how nice it was to have nimble hands until I didn't have them anymore. I hate being old. I wonder if one could get hand transplants?

8:01 AM
Probably not.

8:04 AM
I don't know what to do with this ridiculous box. It's too heavy to move anywhere, and it's stuck right here in the way of the door.

8:07 AM
Ha! SUCCESS!! I'm brilliant! I opened the box with my cheese grater. At least I can get through the cardboard now.

8:10 AM
This...does not look like something someone would pack books in. It's an insulated cooler, I think. Do books require a certain temperature to travel in?

8:11 AM
Perhaps they're preserving the books from aging? Maybe I should travel in a freezer and see how that improves my bodily preservation.

8:12 AM
GOOD GOD! These are not books!

8:14 AM
What kind of a country is this, I ask you?! I ordered books, which, the last time I checked--though, admittedly, I've been unconscious for several months--are bits of pulped wood with bits of ink on them. Ink has heavy metals in it, which is very detrimental to the environment, but the contents of this box are definitely more detrimental to the environment than ink could ever be.

8:15 AM
And detrimental to my mental health. Detri..mental health. Ha!

8:16 AM
Hahaha! Alright, I need to focus on the problem at hand.

8:17 AM
I'm going to call the UPS office and raise hell. I don't want these things decomposing in my nicely renovated library.

8:25 AM
"Hello? Yes, I--" wait, this isn't a real person, it's a machine answering their silly phone! No, I do NOT want to check the shipping status of my package, that's the whole problem--it's here, you, you... computer! I want to talk to a person.
"PERSON! LI-VING FLESH!" Please repeat? What kind of intelligent machine are you? I articulated as though you were 80 years old!

8:28 AM
This is ridiculous.

8:31 AM
FINALLY! "Yes, I have a problem with you and your entire company."
He says he's sorry. I don't think he means it.
"Actually, I ordered a package and something I didn't order arrived. Something that is very markedly not the thing I ordered."
Huh. Problems like this occur all the time, he says. What kind of a company does this sort of thing repeatedly? Aren't you supposed to learn from your mistakes?
"I ordered a lot of books. Why? Because I'm a librarian. Would you like to know what I got instead? A box of frozen birds! Dead ones, with the feathers still in! What kind of sick company are you?!"
He's told me to look at the address label. I know my address, why would I--oh.

8:36 AM
There's a different mailing address on it. It's supposed to go to the Environmental Studies Office down the road.

8:37 AM
But this means nothing! They are still at fault for sending me the wrong package and mentally traumatizing an old woman with a box of frozen birds!
"This means nothing! You are still at fault for sending me the wrong--"
He said they're sending someone over to pick up the box. And he hung up. Young people are so rude these days.

8:39 AM
I should probably let Zeppelin out of the book return box.