There
wasn’t a thing that was organized, categorized, alphabetized, in numerical
order or arranged according to height, type, color or weight.
This
was the day everyone had been waiting for.
It happened just one weekend a year and today was Saturday.
Our
local library forced everyone out of their comfort zone. They completely disorganized the shelves and
everything on them. Action-adventure was
next to children’s hand puppets, Cookbooks were scattered about like shrapnel,
while a good murder mystery could be found next to a How To book. It had the feel of giant garage
sale. It was impossible to know what you would come across next.
The
head Librarian truly enjoyed seeing people make discoveries. The volunteers at the checkout counter heard
the same thing all day long, “I didn’t know you had this.” and “This is great. When did you guys start carrying these?”
Although
everyone had fun with it and the activity at the library was never higher than
on these weekends, there was one person who hated it. Instead of simply staying home on the weekend
this took place, he would show up and complain and grumble to anyone who would
listen. He was old, unshaven and his
clothes were over due. His name was Dewey
and he didn’t like what he was seeing.
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