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Sauce: At least Harold Hill isn’t here.

How come people can’t sit still and read without coughing, mumbling, scratching their scalps, and turning pages?
Okay so that last one makes sense, but...so loudly?
Yes, I’m at the library again, that haven of peace, solitude, quiet.  Let me make it clear:  I’m undyingly grateful to the library.  I may contribute nothing but the occasional late-fee, but it still feels more ethical to come here and write than to steal my neighbor’s WiFi (which I have never done except three times maybe four - it’s a really slow network) (is “network” the correct word?) (maybe I’ll Google it).
However, my unconditional esteem for the library does not by default extend to all of the library’s patrons.  They, without fail, possess squeaky walkers, squeaky children, squeaky shoes, squeaky chairs, squeaky computer mouses, and squeaky, far-carrying voices.
I assume there must be some relatively unobtrusive humans in this building, but, of course, I can’t hear or see them so it’s hard to get a head-count.


Comments

  1. UnknownSeptember 10, 2019 at 5:14 PM

    oh my goodness...I had to read this three different days before it hit me that I should maybe know who Harold Hill is.

    ReplyDelete
  2. The Lasagna September 12, 2019 at 12:40 PM

    Ya got trouble, my friend, right here, I say, trouble right here in River City!

    ReplyDelete

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