Tuesday, July 5, 2016


All day I have been industrious at work. It was busy out at the desk, but even so I attended to all the little details. I handled the small, easily deferred chores. I set things up for the next person. I kept busy. I have answered ringing phones that weren't even mine to answer. And in the lulls of the day I mostly looked for productive things to do. When I found them I did them. Then, about an hour ago I was upstairs shelving. I just had an hour scheduled there, but already I was well into a second cart. It was there that the oddness of it all dawned on me.

"Why am I getting so much work done? What's going on?"

I didn't decide to work hard. I wasn't forced, tricked, or obligated into it. Indeed, today was the sort of day where no one would even care what I was doing. I am usually a mercurial worker, high and low by mood and immediate necessity. I am usually adjusting for grievances, leveraging my powerlessness with moderation and self entertainments. I am not generally industrious and dogged. Something must have happened.

And then the truth came from behind the clouds. I understood why, so far today, I have unconsciously, simply worked.

No one at my workplace has irritated or offended me all day. 

I am only a little sad to say that this alone might be the weirdest thing that has ever happened to me in 22 years of library work.

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