Library Crime

I rarely look inside my purse.

It’s true.

I don’t shop. And when I do, it’s so rare, I need instructions about where to slide or insert the little card thingy.
I also love to read.

All of this will become relevant . . .

When the kids were little, we went to the library.

A lot.

It builds character.

We had our routines. Which usually consisted of me hauling a great bag of books into the place.

And another great bag of books out of the place.

Why do so many of my life’s memories include me carting heavy loads?

Just wondering . . .

On many of our visits, several of the books I carried in and out were for me.

This is both good and bad. 

Because I read a lot. Which was good.

But I also brought whatever I was reading with me wherever I went in the house. And, because I’m unorganized, usually left it there. So, when the time came for our weekly library trip, I couldn’t yell at my kids for displaced books because I was the worst offender.

Sigh.

On this particular occasion, I had lost the book I was reading.

Really lost it.

No amount of hunting and cleaning and interrogating family members brought that little beauty to light.

Finally, in desperation, I decided I would simply have to purchase said book.

During our library visit, I talked to the girl at the counter, explained my dilemma, and paid for the stupid book.

Then gathered my kids and headed toward the exit and my great bag of books that had been slid through and was waiting for me beyond the turnstile.

As we neared the gate, a great electronic shriek filled the room. Definitely not a ‘library’ sound.

It startled all of us.

Including the people behind the desk.

“Ma’am?” one of the girls said. “Do you have an unscanned library book?”

I looked at my children, all bookless, and shook my head.

“May we examine your purse?”

Nodding, I handed it to her and she opened it.

And there, nestled among the used Kleenex, lipbalm and hairbrushes, was the lost book.

I am not making this up.

Both of us gaped at it like we had spotted a snake nesting in the warm confines of my handbag.

“That’s it!” I exclaimed unnecessarily.

She pulled it out and looked at me.

I don’t remember what happened after that. I think they gave me my money and kept the book. Everything was a blur.

I should tell you I have no idea of how that book got into my purse.
Ahem . . .

I swear I’m not indifferent to rules. I understand how a library works—the whole borrowing and returning thing. I also know that when you wish to purchase a book, you go to a book store, pay your money, and then stuff your book into your bag.

Knowing isn't doing, I guess.

So, if you’re considering going to the local library to apply for a membership card and need a personal recommendation from a friend...?

Probably you should look elsewhere.

P.S. I also have a book I checked out in 1967. The library closed for good before I could return it. I wonder what the fine on that would be?

And finally, a funny from my beloved Jenny at Procrastinating Donkey...