During my lunch break yesterday, I wasn’t hungry [don’t worry I ate 2.5 dinners] and I was incredibly sore [hot yoga for the first time in forever], so I headed over to the library just to sit and read; relax.
I explored all parts of the Missoula Public Library and then landed in the periodicals, reading the paper in a circle of older men sitting, reading papers. I felt very distinguished, like I was part of a club.
– Sorry, chaps… Am I late? Gustav, pass me the Times. Many thanks, dear fellow.
After catching up on who said what about the fault of our Nation’s debt, I stood and walked over to put my paper back in it’s resting place. As I did, I heard the most rampant typewriting I have ever heard. This intrigued and amazed me just at that because when I type on a typewriter, it sounds like one of the slower chickens is doing it.
T………H………………A..N………….K……………S………………………………….!
But this was,
THANK YOU DEARLY FOR YOUR CONTRIBUTION TO MY PEANUTBUTTER JELLY PARTY. IT WAS TIME.
Thoroughly impressed, I went to find.
And what was I expecting? Of course it was the tiniest little old man, surrounded by huge, leather bound books and paper, sitting in the “Research Room,” typing away with a huge smile on his face…. like he had been waiting all day, all week, all year, all his life for this amazing research, discovery… all to type it at lightning speed on the library typewriter.
It was just all too precious. A scene from a movie I’d cry at [because of the music… they get you with that music!]. I couldn’t stop staring, watching. I walked around that little research room and stole glances from every angle.
Too precious.
Too impressive.
And all this was with this song in mind, for no other reason than it’s beauty…
wull hay. 