Putting the "pub" in "public"

Mood: Good, but tired beyond belief
Hair: Braided, inwards
Eyes: Fabu
Listening to: Some commercial or another

Today was one of those truly bizarre days that everyone who has dealt with public service has experienced, but only public librarians will 'get' in all it's hallucinogenic permutations.

As I've told a couple of people, it was all about kids (relatives of staff), dogs, perverts, drunks...and crack(s). I got to hold a toddler, talk seriously with a 4-year-old, coo over a baby, pet a dog--our regular visitor--interpret a patron's poor English well enough to try to find the other dood looking and 'nude women' on the computer, stare down a crack that reveled the Grand Canyon (eeewwww....shudder), and listen to Crazy Cat Lady and Schedule Nazi ramble on and on and on. LOTS of email, much of it bizarre. A tempest in a teacup (because it's not a Friday without some stupid thing involving CT!). Realization that I have a Cataloging meeting next week and no agenda. Two funny ADHD kids who managed to crack me up while proving that I may have ADD tendencies of my own.

So I came home to a large glass of wine, spaghetti, and the creation of the following list for this weekend:

• Talk to Sparky about grades
• Meet with mentee
• Call James and Alan & Katherine
• Tidy kitchen
• Run Roomba
• Clean all bathrooms
• Dust
• Figure out cost/kid for mission trip
• Watch Sarah Connor Chronicles and Survivor
• Go to Sam's Club
• Pick up Sparky's new glasses
• Vacuum stairs
• Talk about Rx changes (insurance)
• Work on car(s) (Beast)
• Look over Sparky's homework and help as necessary
• Write letters to Mr. K's sister-in-law and Dean
• Draft letter for church seniors
• Draft job description for youth leaders
• Clean up and email Session minutes
• Put together April newsletter article
• Update next week's calendar to include meetings
• Call Ryan
• Clean up spare room
• Talk to Beast about Kyle's letter
• Laundry
[updated 3/9, 8 a.m.]

I got a letter today from a relative of my growing-up next-door neighbor with whom I've exchanged Christmas cards, along with his wife until she died a few years ago. OK, that's a nightmare of a sentence. Anyway, Mr. K died last August after a fall and a broken hip. They are sending out letters to everyone who has written him since his death, and are just getting through the Christmas cards, apparently. He was in his mid-90s, I think, and one of the nicest men I ever knew. Sigh.

OK, I'm off to be bored.