SOMETIMES SILENCE IS NOT GOLDEN

          The last day of school for students was June 15th, and the last day of work for teachers was the 16th.  I, however, being an 11-month employee, work quietly here in the Library through the very ass-end of June and return prompt-as-you-please on August 1st.
          Few souls are left on campus during this time.  The Registrar in the counseling office across the quad, the assistant principal and the attendance clerk in the main office on the OTHER side of the quad, and me over here in the Library.  It's like we're stranded on three separate islands of solitude.  But I kind of like it that way, and rarely venture outside the Library.
          Tuesday I worked from 7 am to 3:30 pm without ONCE seeing another human being.  It's like my own bookish version of "I Am Legend."  Luckily I leave before sundown.

Don't get caught in the Library after dark!

          We've been having total June gloom, too, so not only is it silent as the grave in here, but it's also rather DARK.  Our Library has two meager rows of very high windows, so I can't see any humans from them, and don't even get much sunlight.  It finally dawned on me that half the blinds were closed, which was part of the problem, so I opened them.  Hopefully that will help.
          I've been playing my little blue iPod docking station pretty loud, but somehow it still seems too quiet.  Despite the cathartic screaming of riot grrls, the hammering of Rammstein, and the rattling noise-rock of The Kills, I can somehow STILL hear every little mouse fart echo through the cold emptiness.
          Speaking of the mouse as a symbol for silence, let's think of some famous literary mice, shall we?

          Hide the cheese...
      

JUST MEAN

          Yesterday was the last day of school for students, so the custodians must have cleaned out lockers last night.  When I walked into the Library this morning, grimy wayward textbooks and binders were all over the checkout desk, and piled high on my desk chair.  Seriously, most of them were covered in a thin film of sticky dirty grime.  I said, "Fuck THIS, man!" because I really hate dealing with textbooks.  They are not Library property, we don't purchase them or store them, and we're not responsible for them.  So there.
          Anyway, I turned and saw this enticing Toll House chocolate chip cookie box sitting on the table behind the circ desk, with lurid cookie pics all over it, and for a moment thought, "Oh!  A gift for ME?  For making the Library so awesome?"  But no, upon closer inspection it was filled with dirty, greasy old combination padlocks the kids didn't want anymore, or left on their lockers, or something.
          This is what the end of the school year is like, though.  Everyone madly trying to dump a bunch of crap on somebody else before they leave for summer break.