the thing about libraries

Remember when I used to live in Plano, and my douchebag roommate (not you of course, jChris, but that asshat you left me with) would randomly decide we didn't need the internet anymore? And so I'd walk to the library, a good two miles or so each way, listening to whatever sad indie music I'd found that month to lessen my all-encompassing loneliness (usually The Shins or Elliot Smith), and put up with the various sides of humanity that frequent a public library.

I'd forgotten. Using the internet at a public library is an exercise in patience.

Let's see. There's this lady with a baby, and the baby's alternating screaming and giggling with pounding loudly on the countertop. Oh christ, now he's doing both at the same time.

Also, in timely fashion as usual, my need to use the bathroom for twosies (thank you, Zach Braff...marry me) has asserted itself, a near unavoidable consequence of any visit of mine to a library or bookstore.

And there's the fact the each page just takes ever so slightly more time to load than you think it should, or it doesn't load at all until you refresh it three times.

The guy next to me is laughing at something. Uncontrollably.

OH MY GOD IT IS SO COLD IN HERE WHY THE HELL IS THE AC ON SO HIGH!!?!?

I'd love to continue with this line of thought...but I'm freezing and I have to poop.