When I'm sixty four
I went to the library today, and as I was blissfully sorting through the stacks, I was accosted by this old guy who insisted there was no way I could possibly read all the books I had selected. I didn't have that many, maybe seven or eight; when I was holding them, they only stacked up to maybe my shoulders - I still had another six inches or so before I couldn't balance anymore. Plus, I was stocking up for a full week and a half - the main library's closing next week for renovation, and I wanted to take full advantage of their selection while I could.
Anywho, so I responded politely that it may seem like a lot, but that I have some free time, and I want to keep myself occupied. I thought that would end the conversation on a nice note, but he persisted, commenting on my age (he pegged me for nineteen), my supposed level of astuteness, whether being astute also meant I was perceptive, and my level of physical exertion compared to my level of mental exertion.
Oy. It's not that the guy was creepy, because he wasn't. It's not that he wasn't nice, which he was. It was just really random, and it wouldn't end. I kept moving along the stacks as we talked, hoping he might get the hint, but he just blathered on and moved with me. A librarian moved past us, reshelving books, and as he passed, I stared after him with a look of longing in my eyes.
To be honest, I'm not 100% sure why I was so irritated. I like talking to new people. I like older people (they tend to be more interesting than a lot of the people my age). Again, not creepy. He even made some good points - you can't neglect physical maintenance for mental, or vice versa. He even suggested some good, interesting places to go running/walking. So why was this a bad thing?
Perhaps it was because he was interrupting my love affair with the books. Me and the books, we're serious. We spend at least two, maybe three hours a day together, so I guess you could say we're getting pretty serious. Plus, the library's a quiet zone, so it felt really strange to be standing there, just chatting in normal tones. I felt like the library police were going to arrest me any minute.
Anywho, so I responded politely that it may seem like a lot, but that I have some free time, and I want to keep myself occupied. I thought that would end the conversation on a nice note, but he persisted, commenting on my age (he pegged me for nineteen), my supposed level of astuteness, whether being astute also meant I was perceptive, and my level of physical exertion compared to my level of mental exertion.
Oy. It's not that the guy was creepy, because he wasn't. It's not that he wasn't nice, which he was. It was just really random, and it wouldn't end. I kept moving along the stacks as we talked, hoping he might get the hint, but he just blathered on and moved with me. A librarian moved past us, reshelving books, and as he passed, I stared after him with a look of longing in my eyes.
To be honest, I'm not 100% sure why I was so irritated. I like talking to new people. I like older people (they tend to be more interesting than a lot of the people my age). Again, not creepy. He even made some good points - you can't neglect physical maintenance for mental, or vice versa. He even suggested some good, interesting places to go running/walking. So why was this a bad thing?
Perhaps it was because he was interrupting my love affair with the books. Me and the books, we're serious. We spend at least two, maybe three hours a day together, so I guess you could say we're getting pretty serious. Plus, the library's a quiet zone, so it felt really strange to be standing there, just chatting in normal tones. I felt like the library police were going to arrest me any minute.