It started off a lousy rotten day - wet and dark and gray as grimm - and nothing much changed the whole way through. (I got especially depressed after lunch, reading Matt Taibbi's Griftopia.)
When suppertime came, neither one of us was much in the mood for dragging our asses and the bookwagon through porridge-cold puddles. I mean, we really didn't want to go out there. Not even the Christmas lights helped: everything seemed dull and flat and lousy. I'd have taken a bitter, bedraggled picture for you but I forgot my camera. The first wagon of our ninth year - a wet, dark, lousy, rotten night. And our feet were wet.
Still, we went. Two little kids borrowed straight off. (Rotten kids.) And then a young mom yelled after us from her stoop: "Can we borrow some books?" And another mom borrowed John Saul books. (Whatever.) And a dad was excited to see the Frosty the Snowman board book. And somebody yelled that our Christmas lights looked great. (Idiots.) And a mom was grateful for the leveled books we brought for her and her son. He had moved up from Level A to Level D, she said. "I'm so proud of him." (Yeah, yeah. Did I mention our feet?)
Little kids borrowing - kids so small they can hardly stand - insisting on this book not that one. And parents saying but that's the one we just put back, and kids not caring one bit because that's the book they want. Kids not even born when we started the program. (What do they care if our feet are wet!) An eleven year old wandered up looking to borrow a chapter book - it was then we realized we'd forgotten to put the chapter book box on - and took something from the 12+ box. Some more parents, some more kids. We stopped to pick up some returns and found two Christmas cards addressed to us tucked in among them. (Humbug!)
Lousy, wet, dark, rotten....