Library

I have this great reading list, right?

I hate to go to the library. I mean, I love it, but I hate it too. I have the list in my mind, but I cannot remember the list directly. I remember some things, but in reality, some of the books that I want to read on the list are in my possession already. Going to the library is literal torture. I want to check out a bunch of books and read them all---but I don't have time enough. I often get one book, but sometimes (lately) I don't even have much time to read that. Library books are pressure to me. I wake up some mornings afraid that one is overdue and then oftentimes I forget to check to see if it is overdue online, or I just have to bite the bullet and take all the books back in one big pile before they are actually due because of my silly fear. I hate giving the government anymore of my money.

So, I went to the library the other day with Dear Sir and all his offspring and we returned a ton of books. We walked around the library for awhile (it was a different one from the one we were used to so it was extra fun) and I looked up some of the authors that I admire. I found a book called Cakes and Ale by Somerset Maugham and have been reading that (which is NOT on the list, which totally figures). I have not finished As I Lay Dying, which I intend to, but for some reason, I am interested in this book. Maybe it is the way the guy writes. I literally got on the treadmill to walk (the day before I was afraid I messed up my knee) and read while on it.

The subject of the book is boring. It is about an author writing about his memories of an author (now dead) and how he is consistently bothered by his author friend about this dead author. He talks about his memories with the man, and his friend wants to write a book about him. That is pretty much all the book is about. I am not sure about cakes or ale. That does not make sense. Maybe it is some sort of saying and I don't know it. I often do not know sayings.



I have a distant memory about a library that I thought would be pertinent with this post. Back in my old homeland, I went to the library with my mother sometimes. One particular time my mother wanted me to just drop off books for her as she sat in the passenger's side seat waiting for me. She had about two huge plastic grocery bags full of books. I could not believe it. The corners of the books were even poking out of the bags, causing holes to form. Of course, there was probably about fifteen parking spots for anyone in the library (if that) so I had to park a little ways off (someone was already hogging up the drop off area). So I took the bags and started walking toward the shute. A middle aged couple were behind me and walking toward the library. Suddenly, one of the bags gave way and about a shelf of books scattered about everywhere in the parking lot. I am not sure how I got them all in my arms again, but no one helped me and the man with the woman said in a little huff as he walked by me and the scattered books, "Serves you right, checking out all those books."

I almost screamed, "I DIDN'T CHECK OUT ALL THESE BOOKS, YOU JERK!" but I didn't.

I went in the car and told my mom the story and she just giggled.

Ugh.