Fees, Bees, Peeps, and Two-and-a-Half or Four Celebrities

The usual heavy Monday, though kind of light in the weekend bookdrop. Not a usual day, though: Two cards left behind at computers; while I was on the desk I dragged Scott out to do two lost books and a damaged book, and I got Tara out to deal with a lady who swore she returned her 18 books on time despite the computer's (and Tara's and my) insistence that they'd been turned in three days late. The moment Tara cancelled her fine she said she'd pay it.

Talked to the county spelling bee champ's father. His son didn't make it out of the first round of the regionals. "All those kids were from middle school," he told me. I asked him how long the county bee went on--I having left somewhere around the tenth tiebreaker between the last two--and he said it went to about 25 rounds, when his son spelled "champion" and another word of similar difficulty. When I told him those words seemed pretty easy compared to the ones they were missing when I left, he said they had to finally dumb it down so someone might actually win. (Those weren't his words, just my blunt interpretation.)

Mr. Peeps was in today. His polo shirt was pink today. Friday it was yellow, and Thursday orange. A woman told me she started to go in the bathroom looking for her daughter when a man came out. She had been startled but amused, figuring it to be an honest mistake. I asked her what he was wearing, and she said he was balding (okay, so he wasn't wearing much hair) but didn't say anything about his clothes. I didn't tell her why I asked. I'm sure she knew generally, but I wasn't going to let her know there was a guy of questionable moral rectitude wandering around the library. Last Monday, I was passing the adult non-fiction on my way to the audio books, my curiosity pointing my eyes down each aisle, when they were briefly and discreetly arrested by long legs falling to the floor from a short pleated skirt. I couldn't see a face behind the dark curtain of straight hair shielding her profile, but the rest of her made me wonder if she was old enough for me to be looking at the way I was. But, like I said, I was discreet--not so much as a hitch in my gait as I moved along. In the next aisle, Mr. Peeps had already resolved what pangs of conscience he may have had regarding the same issue. On his knees, a stack of books beside him, Mr. Peeps craned forward, head nearly in the foot-wide gap he'd created, chin just about resting on the partially emptied second shelf from the floor (mid-940's, I checked later). For a moment, after I'd seen her then just spied him, I saw them both, the stacks between. The scene sickened and saddened me at the instant of recognition. My first thought was just to chase him away, make him uncomfortable. All I really had to do was make eye contact. His paranoia usually finds the eyes watching him, and I'm always watching him, and I'm never the first to break eye contact, which is always brief. I'm convinced his paranoia has convinced him that I'm on to him. Maybe I've just motivated him to take greater precautions. I did nothing.

Celebrity sightings: Marg Helgenberger was back in today. She came to the desk when Beth was up. (She never comes to see me! Maybe I give off a Mr. Peeps vibe since I have a hard time not looking at her) Georgette from Mary Tyler Moore was also in, as was a Garrison Keillor/Roger Ebert hybrid (runs on ethanol and solar).

Watched the least-laden cart (fiction) go out in the morning with Beth behind it. Disappointed that she made a personal decision on a professional matter.