Because, really, this is the perfect life. Other than the worry about money and jobs that is lingering, pressing around the edges.
I went to the library today and got some new books and sat in a park reading them under trees and over grass. Then I went to a coffee shop, where I lunged for a hard copy of the New York Times lying on a table. New York Times, how I love and miss you.
A few weeks ago, I got a new city library card, mine having expired after three years of being inactive (Rwanda + one year, I guess). It turns out that my parents now live in a different school district than they did when I got the original library card as a teenager. Clearly I knew they had moved, because back then I lived in the old house and now I live in the (basement of) the new. I just didn't realize it mattered for library usage. I can get a city library card, they told me, but I also need one from the library in the school district where we now reside. Then I have to show the local card to the city library in order to satisfy their reciprocity demands. Maybe because the local one is the district to which we pay taxes, I have surmised.
So I got the city card, pending the display of the local one, and I stopped at the correct branch a few days ago to get the library card I'm supposed to have. I explained the situation to the librarian, who treated me as if I were lying about my address in order to get at her books. "WHY WOULD I WANT ACCESS TO YOUR TINY ONE-ROOM LIBRARY?" I wanted to ask. I had already shown her the city card, which indicates access to many, many, MANY more books, when explaining the situation. But I refrained from sarcasm, and smiled at her. She very carefully examined my driver's license and then compared it to her list, making certain to ascertain that not only my street but also my street number was, indeed, within the school district. "It's a short street." I said as she held her finger under the numbers and then reached for my license again, to triple check. There are very few numbers on this street. Not enough for such shenanigans. Then she looked up and me and said, irritably, "Oh. This is your home library."
LIKE I SAID.
***
A few nights ago, while running, I heard a hissing noise and my first thought was "Rattlesnake!" Nevermind that I've never encountered a rattlesnake in my life and have barely even been in states that have them. As it happens, it was actually one of those *&#% sprinklers going on right next to me. I'm clearly not fit to live in the suburbs.
***
I'm starting to think it wouldn't be so bad if I have to go somewhere other than Liberia. Perish the thought.
A few weeks ago, I got a new city library card, mine having expired after three years of being inactive (Rwanda + one year, I guess). It turns out that my parents now live in a different school district than they did when I got the original library card as a teenager. Clearly I knew they had moved, because back then I lived in the old house and now I live in the (basement of) the new. I just didn't realize it mattered for library usage. I can get a city library card, they told me, but I also need one from the library in the school district where we now reside. Then I have to show the local card to the city library in order to satisfy their reciprocity demands. Maybe because the local one is the district to which we pay taxes, I have surmised.
So I got the city card, pending the display of the local one, and I stopped at the correct branch a few days ago to get the library card I'm supposed to have. I explained the situation to the librarian, who treated me as if I were lying about my address in order to get at her books. "WHY WOULD I WANT ACCESS TO YOUR TINY ONE-ROOM LIBRARY?" I wanted to ask. I had already shown her the city card, which indicates access to many, many, MANY more books, when explaining the situation. But I refrained from sarcasm, and smiled at her. She very carefully examined my driver's license and then compared it to her list, making certain to ascertain that not only my street but also my street number was, indeed, within the school district. "It's a short street." I said as she held her finger under the numbers and then reached for my license again, to triple check. There are very few numbers on this street. Not enough for such shenanigans. Then she looked up and me and said, irritably, "Oh. This is your home library."
LIKE I SAID.
***
A few nights ago, while running, I heard a hissing noise and my first thought was "Rattlesnake!" Nevermind that I've never encountered a rattlesnake in my life and have barely even been in states that have them. As it happens, it was actually one of those *&#% sprinklers going on right next to me. I'm clearly not fit to live in the suburbs.
***
I'm starting to think it wouldn't be so bad if I have to go somewhere other than Liberia. Perish the thought.
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