Nuffinmuch

Wherein the harpy goes on an aimless ramble.

After unlocking the library and flicking on the lights, we pressed ourselves up against the glass doors to stare down the field at the Career Day happenings: myself, to oogle whistfully at the cops, firemen, and EMTs; my co-worker and janitor, to tut disapprovingly about the high school boys playing basketball around the booths instead of getting career info. I put on a cardigan and settled into a cart of books to barcode, while janitor ruminated on the subject of forced sterilization of stupid kids.


I don't know how you do it, JT - I tried looking up "stupid kids", and got distracted by this. It's all downhill from here.

My mind has been circling a few tracks of thought these past few days. Have been composing a mental letter to someone in real-life, whom I am fairly sure does not read my blog (but if so, well, it saves me an awkward conversation).

Dear married men man,
When I said that no stray peen had landed in my hand, it was not a complaint, or an open invitation. You are fairly attractive not-hideous good-looking You're nice and all, but it's not gonna happen. I know it can be confusing when a woman has breasts breast one or more breasts and gives eye contact and laughs occasionally and does not push you violently away when you get too close, but that does not a contract for nookie make. Even hussies nice librarians enjoy a bit of friendly eye-batting, please don't muck it up by jumping in with your face and hands and trousers. I freeze up when caught by surprise, like that time in 9th grade I was watching a movie with a boy and he got a stiffie and it brushed my leg and I froze up and then dumped him by phone the next day but that does not mean I am subscribing to your service. If I were, you would know, because I would make a shameless ass of myself. Please go back to being politely aloof. The thrill of the new really, really isn't worth ruining everything in your life over, anyway. For real.

love kthx
librarian

Derailment: I recently saw that crossed-out "love" signature on passiveaggressivenotes.com, which made me laugh/facepalm because I had actually done it once. But not to be a douchecanoe. I had written the word because I meant it, then realized that was not really such a good thing, but I didn't have another card and had already taped things to the inside of it and the mail lady was coming, so I stared at it, almost left it, started to cross it out, realized I now had to cover it completely or it would look like a deliberate guilt-cross-out, scribbled madly, considered drawing flowers and hearts sprouting out of it to make it look like a fancy motif, and finally decided, feck it. Signed it and sent it. Am now owning my douchecanoery.

Anyway, have also been thinking about babies. They are dropping out of people everywhere. There are now THREE downstairs, amongst the new neighbors. Arg, the new neighbors... if I start ranting about everything to do with all these new neighbors I will have to slap myself with my keyboard to get back on track. IT IS NOT FREE LAUNDRY FOR THE WHOLE NEIGHBORHOOD JUST BECAUSE YOU GOT THE KEY TO THE ROOM EVEN IF THEY DO BRING BEER AND WHERE DID ALL THESE SCABBY UNDERFED PUPPIES COME FROM. *slap* Babies. Three of them, squalling in chorus all day and night. And I don't even mind, because I love babies, and I squee in delight and clutch my ovaries when my friends bring their squishy little infants into the library - but I am surprised to find that while all this is true, I am so, so glad I don't have to pick them up and change their milk-poo and blearily coax my relationship through six weeks of bleeding aching sleep deprivation while juggling the needs of a toddler and school kid. It's a beautiful, wonderful thing, and I am very, truly happy for the folks I know who are plunging in and doing it - pats on the back and kisses to the bleary eyes, you glorious reckless fools. (But keep your fucking crack-head friends out of the laundry room and stop parking us in with trucks filled with puppy crates.)

Am swearing and going on because I am very hungry. Have replaced eating with reading and singing Fairies Wear Boots very loudly in the car and watching Dexter and studying Mike for signs of sociopathy.


Hmm, Mike also smiles and says reassuring things and wears pants...

Leif has helped by shredding an entire loaf of bread, and dumping beverages into my yarn stash. Will be hollow-eyed and shrunken-bellied in no time.

I think I was trying to make this more of a crafty-mom blog with pretty pictures of knitting and quilts and clean children in hand-sewn clothes. I am doing it wrong.