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oh Harlingen library, how you vex me so.
I love your gardens, your sculpture, the sound of the water falling in your fountain.
But inside, it's never easy, is it?

I know, no giggling out loud, no humming the Mission Impossible theme while searching for a daughter lost in the stacks.
I'm sorry that even my flipflops sound loud when I climb the steps to the second floor non-fiction shelves.

But when I pull out my running book list, you seem to mock me. Nothing today- not one from the list.
And when I look for the shelves starting with the P authors, I find it not next to the O's and Q's, but rather, the shelf after large print T-Z's.

And then, you force me to scrounge the bottom of my bag, the bottom of my daughters' bags, for the cash to pay not only my fines, but also my kids', before I can check out a book? Before the non-offending kids can check out a book? Ahh, the challenges of five active library cards- always paying for the offenses of others...

I know, the library is a privilege. And I know, I push the envelope every single time.
Can we declare a truce? Next time, I'll do my part, I promise.
Can we all just get along?
(and could you please add some Wendell Berry to your catalog? please?)

Most sincerely,
a loyal bibliophile