September Holidaze

So one of the oldest questions in the library biz is “Why can’t librarians have their weekend on Tuesday and Thursday?”

You see the logic of the thing, don’t you?  People regard library-going as a leisure time activity.  So they’d like libraries to be open when they’re free, say 6 to 11 P.M. on weekdays and all day Saturday and Sunday (well, maybe just 6 A.M. to midnight.)  That doesn’t allow the library folk much leisure but, hey, they knew the job was dangerous when they took it.

   I hope you don’t need your Uncle Blogsy to tell you that life isn’t like that.  And I hope you know your Uncle Blogsy well enough to realize what Uncle Blogsy is leading up to.

Please don’t bring any donations to the library this weekend.  We are closed.  Locked up tight.  The big wooden doors in front will be closed, the doors in the back will be locked, and there will be nobody around the joint to bring your treasures indoors.  AND they tell me it’s going to rain.

I will be elsewhere, Cheese Whiz Souffle.  I will be hunkered down in my book bunker deciding what to do with these $600 magazines.  (Somebody gave me the Exiles number of Little Review, with Ernest Hemingway and some others of his ilk in it.)  I will be trying to identify this photo of a Victorian actor identified only as “George”.  I will be making up my mind about this digital spy camera someone has given me.  (Is the whole concept of a spy camera obsolete now that everybody has a camera in that teeny tiny telephone they carry around?)

Anyhow, we asked you not to bring books before Labor Day.  That includes Labor Day itself, honeyed ham hocks.  Now, honest and for truly, this does not mean you all HAVE to bring me books on Tuesday.  I will be very busy still, catching up on mailing the naughty pictures I’ve sold on eBay.  (They came in with a big donation to the collection, and actually it’s not that they’re too frisky to sell to the shoppers in July.  It’s that they’re so SMALL.  Let me tell you some day about things that have accidentally slipped into people’s pockets during the Book Fair.  Funny how so many of them accidentally shed their price tags on the way.)

All I mean is that on Tuesday next, we start taking books at the dock and the front desk as we usually do, and we stop shooting early donors with poison darts and putting the bodies …oh, yes, I wasn’t going to mention that.  If you see a light on in the basement after dark this weekend, even though the doors are locked, that isn’t digging you hear.  It’s my steam-powered staple remover taking banana boxes apart.

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