Thursday… A buying day. And comedy night.
What’s to be said about it? I stay late. It goes off. We are totally out of toilet paper and soap. The comedy nerds are sweet and gracious and drunk on PBR but they probably don’t wash their hands anyway. It’s slow before that. Before a rainstorm.
I buy books from 5 people. I pay one guy 50 but his books are great and nobody seems to want store credit.
A wound-up guy reads a bit of our humble sports section. A girl brings lots of Optic Never floppies and I catch up on those. I have a drink at home after I stay up until 2am.
The days are sunny but it is hot out, and just because I can’t be at the beach on the dwindling days of summer doesn’t mean I mind being here. Yet books are filthy. The building is old and dusty. I wear comfortable clothes and don’t mind getting dirty in them.
I change the chalkboard sign again. Find miscategorized things and little items tucked away in between musty pages. A regular stops in for a 3-hr sit. Great. This place was absolutely built for that.
I find myself surprisingly satisfied and in a good mood while I’m in here among all walks who can get excited about something new bound between two covers. Something for someone else, or themselves, or for later. A simple service and old, but still relevant.
I alphabetize. Many books by the same author are then alphabetized by title. I lift and twist and shelve and re-shelve. My wrists ache pleasantly along with my legs and back, just a little. When I need a break, I sit and read.
This is glorious manual labor that I never have to take home with me. It is ideal work- retail as only I hoped it would or could be. I like it.