THE key

This morning I forgot my key to get into the office. This is not just any key. It is The. Key. THE KEY. It's not the kind of key that fits on to your key ring. It is shaped like a credit card, complete with a little magnetic strip that gives you access to your office and other areas of the library. So, it's easy to forget. Or leave at home. Or lose. Or give to the cashier at the grocery store. Not that I've done that.

You would think that we have confidential information hidden behind these doors. Or that we work for the CIA. Or that somewhere, deep within the hidden recesses of the library storage rooms, is Jimmy Hoffa, Amelia Earhart and the Bermuda Triangle.

We need a key to get in the "STAFF ACCESS ONLY" door of the library. Then we need it to open the main door of the library. Then, to open our office door. And we need to move from office to office. Room to room.

Since I am need of a key, I have to find someone to open every. single. door. for me.

It is 10:30 and people are avoiding me like the plague.
It's going to be a long day.

In more awkward news of the day, I ran into my boss this morning. I usually don't see him very often, so when I do, I try to make a good impression.

As I am walking past him, I say hello and promptly trip on my three inch heels. (Clearly, I have not mastered the walking and talking concept. Thank God, I don't chew gum.)

And not only do I trip, gracefully, spastically, I kick my shoe across the room. My beautiful, black three inch heel slides all the way across. the. room. Right into the path of my boss. My boss looks at me. He looks at the shoe. He looks back at me.

And sighs.

I think he wonders why he hired me in the first place.
Or maybe he wonders why on earth I wear such high heels.



Also, one of my patrons is reading an article about the "psychological benefits of a larger penis".

That's just gross.