The past week has been incredibly busy with work away from the shop. I’ve been organizing a conference and running around trying to figure out how to channel a whole lot of powerful people with opposing agendas into a productive dialogue while not ticking anyone off, and between one thing and another, let’s just say I was REALLY looking forward to getting my head down Saturday and puttering amongst the bookshelves.
Books may have personalities and after-the-shop-closes lives, but they tend to enjoy revealing truth rather than obfuscating it. A leisurely Saturday morning coffee, followed by stacking and straightening and stocking and shelving, and for dessert, some serious contemplation of how to divide Finance, Gender Studies and the –ologies into Self-help/Career and Everything Else…ah, bliss.
When I got home and told Jack of my heart’s desire, a funny look crossed his face. “Well, you’ll have plenty of fodder to work with,” he said. “We got in a few donations while you were away.”
To paraphrase Scotland’s national bard, the best-laid plans of mice and board directors and bookslingers gang aft agley (go skittering sideways). Put another way, be careful what you wish for. Inner peace, here I come.