the library book
I've been having trouble with a library book. It's a special library book that would cost $115 if it was lost. That's because it's borrowed through a special loan program--a bunch of different library systems have networked.
Anyway, I returned it, but the worker screwed up and didn't check it in right, and I didn't get a receipt, so I'm out of luck. All I can do is wait and see if it gets to its home library, and when that happens, we will be in good shape.
It's been a week, so I thought it would be arrived home by now, but the worker told me it might take two weeks. So I will try again in a week. Meanwhile, I wrote a letter describing the situation in detail, and I think I'll send it to Central.
Today we went to lunch to celebrate Erik's last day of freedom for a while--tomorrow he'll start scoring North Carolina, and it's supposed to last weeks and weeks. We went to my favorite place to get falafel. The owner seems to be the nicest person in Sacramento. He has a smile that's warmer than the sun's. His wife's awfully nice too.*
Here at home there's a guy with a drill and a big old hammer pounding the metal roof over the car shelter. I don't think I can score Arizona. Also, there's a terrible fight--a woman is screaming at a man with homicidal rage, and the man's pretty angry too. "Get out of my house!" she yelled. And there was some high-decibel discussion of whether the other was a good person.
Erik's going to do the taxes. He's making a paper mess on the living room floor. I'm hoping this guy will finish the car shelter roof soon.
Oh, I got some fantastic mail. It was a heartfelt letter and Map of Fog II. Marcos really liked functionally ill 4, so I'm going to send him the rest.
* I realized this sounds very wrong, like he's obviously the owner just because he's a man, and the woman who is his wife is "just his wife," but the name of the restaurant is Malouff's, and I think that's a man's name, and I've always thought it was him, this warm, smiling guy who wants to talk to everyone.
Anyway, I returned it, but the worker screwed up and didn't check it in right, and I didn't get a receipt, so I'm out of luck. All I can do is wait and see if it gets to its home library, and when that happens, we will be in good shape.
It's been a week, so I thought it would be arrived home by now, but the worker told me it might take two weeks. So I will try again in a week. Meanwhile, I wrote a letter describing the situation in detail, and I think I'll send it to Central.
Today we went to lunch to celebrate Erik's last day of freedom for a while--tomorrow he'll start scoring North Carolina, and it's supposed to last weeks and weeks. We went to my favorite place to get falafel. The owner seems to be the nicest person in Sacramento. He has a smile that's warmer than the sun's. His wife's awfully nice too.*
Here at home there's a guy with a drill and a big old hammer pounding the metal roof over the car shelter. I don't think I can score Arizona. Also, there's a terrible fight--a woman is screaming at a man with homicidal rage, and the man's pretty angry too. "Get out of my house!" she yelled. And there was some high-decibel discussion of whether the other was a good person.
Erik's going to do the taxes. He's making a paper mess on the living room floor. I'm hoping this guy will finish the car shelter roof soon.
Oh, I got some fantastic mail. It was a heartfelt letter and Map of Fog II. Marcos really liked functionally ill 4, so I'm going to send him the rest.
* I realized this sounds very wrong, like he's obviously the owner just because he's a man, and the woman who is his wife is "just his wife," but the name of the restaurant is Malouff's, and I think that's a man's name, and I've always thought it was him, this warm, smiling guy who wants to talk to everyone.
posted by Laura-Marie @ 1:59 PM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home