Cheese sandwich and an apple

I’m on Instant Messenger Watch until we dragoon more volunteers, so I chomped down my sandwich and apple with one ear on the dulcet notification tone (I was never notified about anything) and my eyeballs on the daily news, all of which is scary. I also updated my status on Facebook, clicked around in my Google Reader, and vaguely remembered a plan to make a list at the beginning of the day to prevent precisely this lack of focus.

 

Cheese sandwich, an apple, and a granola bar, redux

Being constitutionally unable to look away from a screen if it’s within skull-swivelling distance but needing a break from terminal glare, I took my lunch bag, a pencil, and the PPs down to the Quizno’s in the lobby and sat at a barstool-height chair in front of the window and took some notes on tomorrow while watching the rain and shivering a little–every institution has HVAC problems, apparently. I started to get excited to see horses I’ve seen before but not for awhile and horses I’ve never seen but have read a lot about and I wished it wasn’t going to rain.  Some students sat behind me discussing the virtues of the respiratory nursing program (the exams are easier, it sounds like, because they’re just about the respiratory system) while the flat screen televisions played an animated film featuring the trials of a tiny little princess that could fit in the palm of your hand.

 

Cheese sandwich, an apple, and a granola bar

Knee socks and a sensible double layer of cardigan sweaters were no match for the autumnal chill that attended my shift hawking chat reference at the booksale to the disinterested members of the ladies’ lacrosse team, so I took my booksale take upstairs to my cloffice and warmed up with a cheese sandwich and yet another in a long line of apples. So many apples. I read a scathing but poorly sourced indictment of horse racing in my new book (the Encyclopedia Britannica and one article from a local paper in Havre de Grace!? wha?!) and then checked to see if the past performances were up for Saturday’s really big race, but no dice. C’mon NYRA! Get with the program! I was still hungry after all that, so downed the granola bar I’d intended to save for later.

 

Fake-ham sandwich and an apple

B. said he’d stop by after the interview so we could go over plans for tomorrow’s booksale-slash-im-reference-promotional-rollout-shebang, so I ate my sandwich in my office, quarter-page flyer (LOL with your librarians!) at the ready. He never came; I blame committees. So I sat instead and read a magazine, starting first with reviews written by people I have fact-checked and library-serviced and then skipping around from section to section, thinking about how they’ll laugh at you, some librarians will, if you tell them books or words are the reason you’ve gotten into this line of work. Oops. And I ate an apple and thought about the twenty or thirty more sitting in a tote bag on my living room floor, waiting patiently for a crust or a crumble.