Just beyond our entrance security gates, we have a large, canvas bin for people to put their library donations in. I like to wander over from the desk during a slow moment and see what the cat dragged in. Sometimes there is some fun stuff in there and sometimes it's just junk.
Tonight it's just junk. It is full nearly to the top with old cookbooks. None are old enough to be interesting, none are new enough to be worth looking at, and none are unique or well-made enough to defy their listless, generic, washed-out time period.
I almost cried out "What a bunch of junk!"
But there were people around. What if one of them was the person who donated it all?
Not that they didn't know it was all the worst sort of junk, just...
those are the very people who least like to hear it.
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