Blog 14: Hidden in Plain Sight

I walked through the graceful, automatic doors of Laman. I waved at the library worker, good ol’ hard-working-but-otherwise-nondescript, [name redacted]. I took a stroll right over to the Danielle Steel books, because that woman is the Ozzy Osbourne of romance novels. But instead of bats, I assume she eats oatmeal and scones. Instead of face-melting guitar solos, she just makes me believe in love again.

I have come for her masterpiece, Rich People Fall in Love, or Become Rich then Fall in Love, or Whatevs: A Novel. It takes place in New York City or some such setting, and it has a great airport scene. As I walked to the shelf, I tried not to get too excited, because I might have passed away from being too happy. It happens in Danielle Steel’s books, and they’re all loosely based on true stories.

I didn’t get too happy because, when I looked closely, the book was not there at all—not one bit. So I did my breathing exercises until my face turned blue, then I stumbled up to the front desk in a slightly dizzy, but decidedly calm fashion.

“Where is the best book in the whole world, Rich People Fall in Love, or Become Rich then Fall in Love, or Whatevs: A Novel?” I said.

“It’s February, so it might be on our Valentine’s display. Let’s check over there,” said [name redacted].

Good old [NR] led me over to the display table, and light practically radiated off the book. A tear even came to my eye. I checked it out for twenty-eight days. [NR] reminded me that I could call and renew it if I needed to. All I had to do was give them my mother’s maiden name for my security word. I needed that, because I’d only read the book fifteen times, and I wanted to have a while for my sixteenth through twentieth readings. There’s always things that I’ve forgotten. Did you know that the female protagonist wears a blue blouse from chapter ten all the way to chapter thirteen? I left Laman, once again feeling happy enough to croak at the beginning of a romance novel.

Blog 13: Glitter Computer

After the countless hours I spent on the phone with tech support and the warranty people, the computer company has finally given me a new laptop. It was hard to convince them that, yes, it did blow up in my face. It burned down my house of cards. What kind of weirdo makes something like that up?

I’ve gotten access to my own computer again, but they can’t stop by to set up my internet connection until Thursday, so I’m at Laman Library using their WiFi, which is free. They also let you stay here all day if you need to.  I find the one labeled “Laman_Guest,” and I simply click on it because there is no password. Since I’m off work today, I spend my whole morning surfing the World Wide Web. I’m doing a research paper on David Bowie and how he inspired me to break masculine stereotypes and start wearing glitter on my person. I even paint a lightning bolt across my face when I’m feeling particularly pretty.

I finish my research paper and I hit print, thinking it will go to the printer like everything else I print in this lovely place. But no printer shows up on my screen. I have never experienced such heart-throbbing calamity. I run to the front desk like the bolt of lightning over my eye. I scare one patron so badly, I hear her call the police and say, “I’m at the Laman Library. There’s a suspicious man running around, screaming about David Bowie. He’s slightly overweight and appears to be in his forties. His face has a storm on it.”

The North Little Rock Police get there at the same time I do. Boy, that was quick. I explain the situation to the officer, and she is so understanding that she offers to meet me for karaoke later and promises to sing Mick Jagger’s part of “Dancing in the Street.” I ask the librarian at the front desk why the printer is giving me such icy silence. Apparently, the printer is not emotionally unavailable. It just doesn’t have a wireless printing option. I get back on my laptop and share it to my email. Then I log onto an express computer and print my paper like I did before Laptop, Jr. arrived. I once again feel satisfied in my experience.