Here's the thing, I really badly want a library card. I need freebies in my life. I probably (let's face it, I do) qualify for food stamps but I'm unsure if I want to journey across that bridge after what I endured today.
When I moved back to Michigan I changed my address because I wanted to get mail here, but mostly because I wanted proof that I was a resident. I imagined waltzing, yes, ballroom dancing, into the library with my change of address confirmation, pressing it into the hands of a bespectacled wise old woman and retrieving what I think is the best escape of life's downward spirals... books. My reading rampages usually begin and end in crises. And I'm revving my engine for a good old fashioned read-a-thon. Except, today... I foxtrotted my too-in-love thighs into the library and apparently my mom lives in the wrong township. At least for this particular library.
Let's play a little game I like to call "said" and (thought).
First of all, when I arrived, I parked on the street. Or tried. A large SUV was sitting in their spot with their rear lights on. (Hm... self. What shall we do?) So, I parked sort of far away from them officially taking up two spots, waited a full minute and got out. Figured they would be there and I would be ok to run in really fast, get my card, get my book, and get out. They didn't move. (Awesome.) Until I got to the sidewalk. Arf. So I get BACK in the car, pull forward so I don't look like the asshole taking up all the street parking and Paso Doble into the public library.
No bespectacled wise old women here! Darn it! My fantasy is already losing steam. First, retard Lexus lady and now this. Ugh. I march up to the counter with a big fat smile on my face and the following ensues...
Cute library girl with the awesome sweater I wanted but couldn't afford: Hi!
Me: Hello! I would like a library card please! (YAY!!! Library! Give me an L!...)
*hand her my driver's license and my freshly opened change of address confirmation*
Cutie Patootie: Ok, great.
*types in the address and makes a funny face*
*types in the address again*
Becoming Uncute: Well, that's what I thought.
Me: Is there a problem? (Of course there is. This is your life we're talking about here. Loser. Give me an L!)
Librarian with MY sweater: Well, unfortunately, you have to go to L Township to get your library card because that's the township you pay taxes in. But (!!!) you can bring your card back here and we'll put a little sticker on it and you are more than welcome to check books out from our library as well. (Doh.)
Me: Oh, that's ok. (No it is NOT. You have a 1/8 tank of gas.)
My sweater: Do you know where the L Township Library is? Down on C Avenue?
Me: Oh, yeah! (NUH UH!! NO YOU DON'T! LIAR! Give me an L!)
My beautiful gray sweater: So, you know to go down to G Road and take a right? (no) Then follow that until you get to the C Avenue intersection where Walgreens is. (Oh! Yes, I know this one!) You turn left and it's a half a mile down the road... maybe.
Me: Sure, yes! Great! Ok! Thanks! (You should have written that down.)
So I waddle back to the car, defeated. Knowing I'm a) about to be lost in a small town and b) may not make it home with the amount of gas I have. I know. You're thinking.. "So put gas in your car!" and to you I say "With what? My great rack and good charm?"
Peanut has a few select quirks that should be pointed out about now.
1. Her oil light is always on. Always.
2. Her engine light is always on. Always.
3. When the gas light goes on, your four letter words become four letter paragraphs.
So I need milk too before I go home. Earlier in the day my grandmother took pity on me and bestowed upon me some delicious home made bread, Red & Rover cartoons (she's been sending me these for years... Hercules is my Rover) and meat. Chicken tenderloins, beef stew meat, and shrimp. Yums. (By the way, I made Beef Stroganof for dinner from scratch. Success! Divine!) So I have meat, I have bread, I need milk. Luckily, the store is on my way to the L Township library across town. So I stop in, debate over milk prices and pay $1.25 for 1/2 gallon of milk. Not telling you where, because I'm going to win the lottery and go back and buy it all. Major Score. Sorry! Poor girls keep secrets.
And from there it's sort of blurry. I drove to G Road. Turned right. I drove to the Walgreens and Peanut's gas gauge said "1/16 yo!" but I kept driving. I turned right. I was supposed to turn left. I know this now. But I did not know this then. I drove down C Avenue and ended up practically on the front steps of the public library. Again.
I realize I just drove in a giant circle and am now panicking about getting home. I turn down a side street and drive gas tank friendly slow to the stop signs, being extra sure to be extra light on the gas pedal so as not to disturb the 1/4 c. of gas that now resides in my gas hole. Peanut alerts me that we are about done with this circus side show and that I better get her back to a driveway or I'm going to look like a dumb ass.
"Yes. Hi! Roadside Assistance? I ran out of gas trying to find the library."
An intelligent person doesn't say these things. I pull into my mom's driveway with the fear of God in my stomach and lots of meat on my passenger seat. I decide I will try this another day. Reading is supposed to be relaxing. I'm kind of stressed out.
Lesson learned. Don't get lost with a 1/8 tank of gas. Give me an L! (For Liquor!)