oh, dear library carrel

Do you know what I did today? I woke up, and washed, dressed, etc., and ate the last remainders of cereal, and poured hot and milky tea into a metal thermos, and I walked to the library.

Now who would imagine that I would ever walk to a library?

Seriously, though, walking (in)to libraries is a skill I have practiced since I could walk. The first library in the community where I did most of my growing up was in a multi-purposes governmental building, and very small. I have memories of recessed lighting, that sort of holy-grail glow on certain volumes. We were very excited when a new library building was built, with a delightful children's section (including a statue of children reading in the courtyard, which always seemed magical to me). I walked into that building like I owned it. I was only allowed to borrow as many books as I could carry, and I did.

That's still basically how it goes. Only once you get old enough to strongly desire to borrow more books than you can carry, you put your name on a list for two years, and then eventually one day the nice man behind the checkout counter gives you a key, and suddenly a five-foot-by-five-foot square of cubicled-in carpet, with a sturdy wooden desk, is yours. For storing all the books you check out. For writing brilliant thoughts. For drinking tea in a thermos and eating snacks that don't leave crumbs. For taking naps.

That's what I did today. I mean, all of the above, including the nap and the fear that I woke myself up by snoring in that most quiet of peopled spaces.

We're starting a new relationship, now, me and that library (and my 5x5 homestead), and the books and the dissertation proposal. We're getting a good thing going.