Those of you who know me as a rule-following goody two-shoes are about to be shocked by what you read. In this post, I will reveal myself as a true rebel. (Sort of.) (Not at all.)
If you follow me on Goodreads, have been to my house and glanced at the coffee table, or peeked into my purse any time in the last two months, you may have noticed I’ve been reading this book called Kristin Lavransdatter for a really really long time. It’s a three-book epic series set in medieval Norway. There’s really nothing more I can say about it to summarize.
The volume is more than 1,000 pages. I am at page 876. The book was due last week. I’ve already renewed it the maximum allowable times, but that didn’t faze me. I admit, I thought I could charm the librarian into simply checking the book in and immediately checking it back out to me again. I mean, the book was published in the 1920s. It’s set in medieval Norway (have I mentioned that yet?). I’m pretty sure there’s not a line of people behind me to read it. And I assume the person behind the desk is a fellow book-lover and KNOWS what it is to be almost 900 pages through an 1,100-page book and so close to finally being finished with it! One more weekend, people. That’s all I need.
But did this librarian even show me pity? No. Ice cold.
Do you want to see something pathetic? Then I’ll show you a 26-year-old woman wilting at the front desk of the library, fumbling for her phone to make a note of her page number before taking her worn letterpress bookmark out of the tome to tuck into her purse.
(I thought about snatching the book off the counter and running for it.)