At the Library...

I like to think of myself as an atypical librarian. But yesterday, after waking up late and throwing on the first thing in my closet, I found myself at work with a black shirt and black cardigan that has a hook and eye at the top. The combination did a good impression of a sweater-set. On the bottom half, I had on straight-leg khaki pants and black and white two-tone (rounded wing tips) shoes. My hair, quickly pulled back and secured with a pencil, resembled, yes, a bun. Now, I'll admit there are days when I wear a pencil skirt and heals and play up the librarian thing a bit, but it is rather disconcerting to subconsciously dress, not like the sexy young librarian featured in so many films, but as the baggy eyed, slightly butch librarian that is more often found behind the desk.

As if , in such attire, I wasn't already feeling insecure, a first grader named Nova (who was helping me make duck finger puppets) asked me if I had any kids of my own.

"Nope." I said.

"I know why you wanted to be a librarian! So you could be with kids." Nova exclaimed.

I didn't know weather to be impressed that a first grader had such insight into the adult female psyche, awed by how instinctual reproducing is to us that even in first grade we are aware of it as a "deepest desire," or insulted that I looked so old to her that she automatically assumed I would never have any kids if I did not have them already. I was, though, flattered that she saw me as human. Most of the kids think I live in the library.

"Yep," I said. "That's exactly right."

So, in addition to the sweater set, the kahki pants, the butch shoes and the, uh, bun, I was also old.

Today I wore white pants, tennis shoes, and a hot pink hoodie and felt much younger. Until around 4:00 when our volunteer reader (Chris, 45) asked, "How old are you? 35?"