Tuesday, September 12, 2006

My Life, or a reasonable facsimile thereof...

Well, where do I start?

My beast is dead. He is in the shop again, and I am very upset. It is really hard to get around in a small prairie city when you have no transportation. It takes me 40 minutes to walk to work. The bus system here is a joke. And not a very funny one at that. It is the same thing that was wrong the last time. And this time it is not my fault, just a faulty part. But unfortunately, I chose to go the cheap route last time and got a used part, which means NO WARRANTY. So now I have to get another one, and it will cost me just as much money (if not more, since I will probably get a brand new part having learned my lesson about used parts).

I am crazy-busy at work. I just had my first story time today, and it went fine, except I forgot the last two lines to a song, and so I just made something up, and it didn't rhyme, and it didn't even have the correct number of syllables, but give me a break, people. I'm just barely clinging to sanity here.

I also had my first go at weeding the children's fiction collection. The whole children's section needs weeding badly. So I'm getting pages to pull books that haven't circulated in the last four years. Then I go through them. I have discovered that I am perhaps not a very good weeder. Books gain my sympathy way too easily. I'm only too willing to give them a second chance. I'm always thinking, "but you are a good book! Why has no one ever tried you out?? You poor thing. Let me take you home and we'll have a good cuddle in front of the fire with a cup of hot chocolate." It's hard to remember that they are all good books. That's why they were purchased in the first place. But some of them have to go. In the end, my discard pile was at least twice as high as the pile that was going back on the shelf. So that's something. I dunno. Do you think I'm being ruthless enough? It is so hard to condemn a book that is only six years old, is attractive, and interesting, but for some reason has never circulated. Not once. I think we need a foster books program. To give unwanted and unloved books a home. All they need is a chance to prove themselves, and you will find out what good books they can be.

Yes, I know, another post and no France. I promise, I will write about my trip to Europe, in exhaustive detail. If it takes me until Christmas, I shall prevail. But until then, think of me, wish me luck, and consider becoming a foster book parent.

1 comment:

Ash said...

This suggestion came up at our library: consider donating some of the foster books to the hospital. If you've ever stayed in the hospital, you know how sad the lounge reading selections normally are. Call them up - they'd probably love a bunch of books. Otherwise, they tend to be the first things that go at our booksale fundraisers. Poor little books...I haven't weeded children's yet. I'm not sure if I could take the pressure.