irate me
In this economy it is amazing that I not only have a GREAT job working at the Farm, but I also have a part-time job in a library, so I get to have my cake and eat it too. But, after nearly a year in BiggerCity Library I am feeling disinterested and craving library work like I did back in Michigan: I wasn't just a librarian, I was a children's librarian; I planned activities that both the kids and I enjoyed; the Reference work was even more enjoyable because we weren't constantly having to deal with rude patrons and drunk homeless persons (I am not being nostalgic here, I really didn't deal with anything worse than someone occasionally looking at porn at my old library--and that was GREAT!); the library was a little smaller and more like a family; the city had a good school system and that small town feel.
Maybe I am just too tired for it today. I didn't get enough sleep last night and I have been working my normal hours at the Farm and a ton of hours here to help out with vacations/filling slots as someone retires/someone takes emergency leave; I am looking forward to a three day weekend next week, and until then cancelling out the ho-hums with some fantasy situations:
Maybe I am just too tired for it today. I didn't get enough sleep last night and I have been working my normal hours at the Farm and a ton of hours here to help out with vacations/filling slots as someone retires/someone takes emergency leave; I am looking forward to a three day weekend next week, and until then cancelling out the ho-hums with some fantasy situations:
- Annoying children screaming while their parents looked at FACEBOOK! (They left right as I was going to talk to them). **In this scenario I fantasized shoving sticky peanut butter sandwiches into the kids mouths until they were lock-jawed shut. No more noise.
- Loud man on a cell phone disturbing other patrons; kept interrupting me as I tried to ask him to take his call outside. **In this scenario I would pull out a Wil E. Coyote inspired mallet and smash the mans' cell phone on the counter. If he protested I would give him one lump on his head as a reminder for his next visit.
- Smelly man who kept asking me to cancel his reservations as he remembered appointments which prevented him from using the computer time I just set up for him. **In this scenario I wanted to ask the janitor to take him outside hose him off, then liberally apply hand sanitizer to help with the smell (this library has buckets of the stuff, thank God). I would then give him the planner on the library desk, which NO ONE uses.
"Peanut-Butter Sandwich"
I’ll sing you a story of a silly young king
Who played with the world at the end of a string,
But he only loved one single thing --
And that was just a peanut-butter sandwich.
Who played with the world at the end of a string,
But he only loved one single thing --
And that was just a peanut-butter sandwich.
His scepter and his royal gowns,
His regal throne and golden crowns
Were brown and sticky from the mounds
And drippings from each peanut-butter sandwich.
His regal throne and golden crowns
Were brown and sticky from the mounds
And drippings from each peanut-butter sandwich.
His subjects all were silly fools
For he had passed a royal rule
That all that they could learn in school
Was how to make a peanut-butter sandwich.
For he had passed a royal rule
That all that they could learn in school
Was how to make a peanut-butter sandwich.
He would not eat his sovereign steak,
He scorned his soup and kingly cake,
And told his courtly cook to bake
An extra-sticky peanut-butter sandwich.
He scorned his soup and kingly cake,
And told his courtly cook to bake
An extra-sticky peanut-butter sandwich.
And then one day he took a bite
And started chewing with delight,
But found his mouth was stuck quite tight
From that last bite of peanut-butter sandwich.
And started chewing with delight,
But found his mouth was stuck quite tight
From that last bite of peanut-butter sandwich.
His brother pulled, his sister pried,
The wizard pushed, his mother cried,
“My boy’s committed suicide
From eating his last peanut-butter sandwich!”
The wizard pushed, his mother cried,
“My boy’s committed suicide
From eating his last peanut-butter sandwich!”
The dentist came, and the royal doc.
The royal plumber banged and knocked,
But still those jaws stayed tightly locked.
Oh darn that sticky peanut-butter sandwich!
The royal plumber banged and knocked,
But still those jaws stayed tightly locked.
Oh darn that sticky peanut-butter sandwich!
The carpenter, he tried with pliers,
The telephone man tried with wires,
The firemen, they tried with fire,
But couldn’t melt that peanut-butter sandwich.
The telephone man tried with wires,
The firemen, they tried with fire,
But couldn’t melt that peanut-butter sandwich.
With ropes and pulleys, drills and coil,
With steam and lubricating oil --
For twenty years of tears and toil --
They fought that awful peanut-butter sandwich.
With steam and lubricating oil --
For twenty years of tears and toil --
They fought that awful peanut-butter sandwich.
Then all his royal subjects came.
They hooked his jaws with grapplin’ chains
And pulled both ways with might and main
Against that stubborn peanut-butter sandwich.
They hooked his jaws with grapplin’ chains
And pulled both ways with might and main
Against that stubborn peanut-butter sandwich.
Each man and woman, girl and boy
Put down their ploughs and pots and toys
And pulled until kerack! Oh, joy --
They broke right through that peanut-butter sandwich.
Put down their ploughs and pots and toys
And pulled until kerack! Oh, joy --
They broke right through that peanut-butter sandwich.
A puff of dust, a screech, a squeak --
The king’s jaw opened with a creak.
And then in voice so faint and weak --
The first words that they heard him speak
Were, “How about a peanut-butter sandwich?”
--Shel Silverstein The king’s jaw opened with a creak.
And then in voice so faint and weak --
The first words that they heard him speak
Were, “How about a peanut-butter sandwich?”
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