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I left for work with time to spare, which turned out to be an excellent idea, as barely five minutes passed before I had a dreadful accident and had to wheel the Angelusmobile back home.
This is what happened. I was bicycling, yes? I do this all the time. I got about a block and a half past my house, and there's a slight not-even-a-hill, but enough to make one's bicycle go a bit faster than it would on a flat sidewalk. This hill also ends at a crossing. I always stop at the end of the sidewalk anyway, but suddenly I realised that there were cars going through there now, so I put on my brakes. Only my brakes decided not to work properly, or really at all, and the only thing my head could come up with in the two seconds prior was for my bicycle to collide with the closest large object.
This happened to be a massive metal crossing pole, which I hit head-on. Or rather: chin on. Yes. My chin and my bicycle tire took most of the blow. Oh dear, my poor chin. I reeled for a moment, said, "OW" multiple times -- and then kept going, because I did not wish to be late for work, and anyway, it hurts like the dickens but I'll be all right eventually. Only it took me fifteen more seconds to realise that my bicycle tire was making funny noises because it had half come off the rim. (You may all collectively facepalm.) So I turned around and walked the bicycle back home -- and only then did I realise that my chin was bleeding. Kind of a lot. ]
(Of all of the crazy stunts the Angelusmobile has pulled, THIS IS THE WORST. Try to tell me he's not trying to kill me. I dare you.)
So, yes, Dad drove me, after I cleaned off my chin with a washcloth and covered it in Neosporin and bandaids. I only ended up being two minutes late and nobody noticed.
So: first day. Not as gorgeously awesome as my training in Waldenbooks -- calendars can never match up to books -- but everything went well, my co-workers were nice (Scott, the most talkative and friendly of us, also plans to take library science!), I only messed up the cash register really badly once (really badly; we had to void the whole sale and start over; I was mortified). We had very few customers, since we were still setting up, and we hadn't any cash in the register, so they couldn't pay with anything but credit and charge cards. So, I organised calendars all day. Would you believe the largest sellers are dog calendars? We sell approximately thirty thousand of them. It is positively obscene. I have grown to loathe them already. (Furthermore they are nearly all schmaltzy, with rubbish photography.) There are lots of animal calendars in general, most of them also consisting of very bad photography. Actually I do not like very many calendars for this reason, though there is a Victoriana one I am interested in.
On my break, I NaNoed, and wished fervently I had been smart enough to pack a bloody lunch. I had no money, either, so I couldn't run off to a nearby restaurant and grab a sandwich or some such. And we are right next to my favourite cinnamon roll place, so I smelt that all day and was ravenous by ten o'clock. And then I didn't eat till nearly three, oh dear! Mum took some time coming to pick me up -- I should have written some more, but I was in my usual rut of "NOTHING IS HAPPENING; WHAT ON EARTH CAN I SCROUNGE UP TO WRITE ABOUT NOW?", so I read Library: An Unquiet History instead, until Mum came, and, to my extreme gratitude, bought me a sandwich at Arby's. (Bacon on fried chicken; delicious!) The bloke behind the counter, noticing my bandaid patch, which was quite falling off at this point (and this was my second one), said after he found out how I'd gotten it that he'd thought I had a piercing gone horrifically wrong. This mental image I found fainly terrifying. (If there's that much blood, I want my money back and then some.)
We came home, I washed my chin again, and went down to one bandaid -- and no noticeable swelling, hurrah!, but a terrific looking bruise instead. Good Lord, is it ever ghastly looking. Some of it is a blood blister, too, although not raised, and -- ugh. Really, really ugh. It is simultaneously very painful and numb.
And then we all walked down to vote (except for Dad, who voted after he dropped me off, and then went to work) -- we brought the siblings and Mum showed them how things worked and such. I really feel as though I ought to say something Great and Important about this, but I didn't feel terribly Great and Important, just pleased and proud that I'm able to act upon my views about how the country progresses. And, hey, I got a sticker, and candy.
Also, I am at over five thousand words, and something has happened at last. Hmmm.
This is what happened. I was bicycling, yes? I do this all the time. I got about a block and a half past my house, and there's a slight not-even-a-hill, but enough to make one's bicycle go a bit faster than it would on a flat sidewalk. This hill also ends at a crossing. I always stop at the end of the sidewalk anyway, but suddenly I realised that there were cars going through there now, so I put on my brakes. Only my brakes decided not to work properly, or really at all, and the only thing my head could come up with in the two seconds prior was for my bicycle to collide with the closest large object.
This happened to be a massive metal crossing pole, which I hit head-on. Or rather: chin on. Yes. My chin and my bicycle tire took most of the blow. Oh dear, my poor chin. I reeled for a moment, said, "OW" multiple times -- and then kept going, because I did not wish to be late for work, and anyway, it hurts like the dickens but I'll be all right eventually. Only it took me fifteen more seconds to realise that my bicycle tire was making funny noises because it had half come off the rim. (You may all collectively facepalm.) So I turned around and walked the bicycle back home -- and only then did I realise that my chin was bleeding. Kind of a lot. ]
(Of all of the crazy stunts the Angelusmobile has pulled, THIS IS THE WORST. Try to tell me he's not trying to kill me. I dare you.)
So, yes, Dad drove me, after I cleaned off my chin with a washcloth and covered it in Neosporin and bandaids. I only ended up being two minutes late and nobody noticed.
So: first day. Not as gorgeously awesome as my training in Waldenbooks -- calendars can never match up to books -- but everything went well, my co-workers were nice (Scott, the most talkative and friendly of us, also plans to take library science!), I only messed up the cash register really badly once (really badly; we had to void the whole sale and start over; I was mortified). We had very few customers, since we were still setting up, and we hadn't any cash in the register, so they couldn't pay with anything but credit and charge cards. So, I organised calendars all day. Would you believe the largest sellers are dog calendars? We sell approximately thirty thousand of them. It is positively obscene. I have grown to loathe them already. (Furthermore they are nearly all schmaltzy, with rubbish photography.) There are lots of animal calendars in general, most of them also consisting of very bad photography. Actually I do not like very many calendars for this reason, though there is a Victoriana one I am interested in.
On my break, I NaNoed, and wished fervently I had been smart enough to pack a bloody lunch. I had no money, either, so I couldn't run off to a nearby restaurant and grab a sandwich or some such. And we are right next to my favourite cinnamon roll place, so I smelt that all day and was ravenous by ten o'clock. And then I didn't eat till nearly three, oh dear! Mum took some time coming to pick me up -- I should have written some more, but I was in my usual rut of "NOTHING IS HAPPENING; WHAT ON EARTH CAN I SCROUNGE UP TO WRITE ABOUT NOW?", so I read Library: An Unquiet History instead, until Mum came, and, to my extreme gratitude, bought me a sandwich at Arby's. (Bacon on fried chicken; delicious!) The bloke behind the counter, noticing my bandaid patch, which was quite falling off at this point (and this was my second one), said after he found out how I'd gotten it that he'd thought I had a piercing gone horrifically wrong. This mental image I found fainly terrifying. (If there's that much blood, I want my money back and then some.)
We came home, I washed my chin again, and went down to one bandaid -- and no noticeable swelling, hurrah!, but a terrific looking bruise instead. Good Lord, is it ever ghastly looking. Some of it is a blood blister, too, although not raised, and -- ugh. Really, really ugh. It is simultaneously very painful and numb.
And then we all walked down to vote (except for Dad, who voted after he dropped me off, and then went to work) -- we brought the siblings and Mum showed them how things worked and such. I really feel as though I ought to say something Great and Important about this, but I didn't feel terribly Great and Important, just pleased and proud that I'm able to act upon my views about how the country progresses. And, hey, I got a sticker, and candy.
Also, I am at over five thousand words, and something has happened at last. Hmmm.
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