This evening at the library:
S & D come in from the foyer where the community bulletin board and bathrooms are.
Me: Oh, it's you. I was hearing voices again. (This is a reference to an earlier conversation I had with D when I heard a man's voice that wasn't D's and I was a little freaked because I'd forgotten there was a teenager sitting in the back corner of the YA area.)
S: And the voices are telling you to get out of the bathroom?
Me: I don't know. I just hear the sound. I can't make out the words. So I guess it's ok if I hear voices as long as they aren't telling me to kill people.
D: S thought the kids were back in the bathroom. It was me.
Me: (to S) Oh god. Please tell me you knocked and didn't just barge in.
S: (embarrassed) No, I didn't-
D: She stood outside the door by the water fountain so I opened the door and there she was.
S: (really really embarrassed, mumbling as she walks away) I heard banging. I thought the bad little children were back.
Me: (to D) I didn't realize there was a problem with kids in the bathroom again.
D: Yeah, earlier we heard banging like someone slamming stall doors. I never saw the kids leave. Of course, I never saw them come in either.
Me: Oh. Then it was just the ghost. He's in the bathroom now.
So, yeah, this is what you get when you have three people with advanced degrees stuck in a library with no patrons. You get discussions of spectral urinary needs. Then one person shelves six books more out of boredom than anything else, one person organizes a hula class under an elm tree in central Kentucky, and one person blogs it all.
Before the pandemic, the library was open until 8pm on Thursdays. We've scaled back to 7pm. Clearly we should have left at 4pm. Or just not come in at all.
I could be home mowing my back yard, y'all. Or telling myself that I should have mowed the yard but now it's too late because I've already started cooking supper and put on pjs.
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