“Wow!” said the patron. “My daughter’s name is Jessica!”

“That is, bar none, the most truly remarkable coincidence I have ever encountered,” I gasped between convulsions. I was, as you probably guessed, suffering a severe bout of hysterics brought on by the staggering enormity of the unlikelihood of my sharing a first name with another person. “This is, literally, incredible. This is Bigfoot and Area 51 and the JFK assassination all rolled into one. I am going to call the press. No: I am going to call the president. Right now. Or at least once I stop convulsing.”

Okay. I’m lying. This is how it actually went:

“Wow!” said the patron. “My daughter’s name is Jessica!”

“Oh,” I said.

Perhaps I am just grumpier than normal (though honestly that’s difficult to imagine, but let’s assume so for the sake of argument), but lately I have had increasingly less tolerance for tedious conversation. This is grossly unfair, as none of the topics in my conversational repertoire are capable of generating the least bit of interest, to anyone, anywhere. But though my material is severely limited (viz., my cats, the books I’m reading, my job, the writing assignments I’m avoiding, and the weather), I like to think I deliver those topics with style. If that’s not the case, I hope you’ll be so kind as to keep your observation to yourself.

Digging once again into the Heard-at-the-Reference-Desk files (unless you’d rather hear about my cats...?):

A library patron was railing at me about government spending and explaining to me that the Obama administration was sending us all to hell. For quite some time I was treated to a lecture about the perils of spending taxpayer dollars on social programs.

(I’d like to note that I listened politely, with an admirably neutral expression on my face. )

Then the person spoke at length about how great the library is.

This is my new definition of irony.

(My heroic failure to point out the irony to the patron ought to qualify me for some sort of library service award, don’t you think?)

I’d like to write more, but I am—have I mentioned this lately?—I am rather behind on some writing assignments, and I am fresh out of new stories about the cats (they’re shedding a lot), the books I’m reading (only some light nonfiction over lunch, on account of my reading time being consumed by writing assignments), and the weather (it’s bloody hot). Stay tuned for the next riveting post, guaranteed tedium-free, in which I discuss my role in the JFK conspiracy.