It was my lucky day.
At least that’s what the neon yellow piece of paper sticking out of the library book said.
Your Lucky Day Collection
The medieval mystery I snagged from the New Arrival shelf just before the library closed appeared to be the perfect book for a weekend in Michigan, so, with unexpected fortune in my cards and a winner’s spring in my step, I headed to the counter.
“This is a Lucky Day Collection,” the lady said with the kind of enthusiasm you only find in the city morgue.
Sorry I didn’t read the explanation on the bottom half of the yellow paper, I asked her kindly to explain.
“You can only check out the book for five days, it’s non-renewable, and the fine is $2 per day.”
“Wow, it’s my lucky day all right,” I replied, my enthusiasm now matching hers.
“Do you want the book?”
Should I explain that I wanted the book to read over my vacation but wouldn’t be able to return it in time? Should I tell her that my expectations as a library patron and taxpayer were not being met? Should I remind her of the state of the economy? Should I give her a few pointers on “selling” her product?
I felt sorry for the guy in library marketing who was up in his office envisioning people lined up to get their hands on those yellow ticketed new arrivals. “It’ll be just like the ‘free chicken sandwiches for a year for the first 100 customers’ campaign that had folks camped out all weekend at the new Chick-fil-A!”
I didn’t get the book but will keep it on my growing ‘as summer already wanes’ reading list. This is actually the first time I’ve made a LIST. (Well, it’s jotted down on a few sticky notes somewhere.)
My current reading list tends toward YA fiction and memoir:
Miss Peregrine’s Island for Peculiar Children
Moon Over Manifest
Some Assembly Required
Dark Monk—keeping this last for when it’s no longer a New Arrival
Do you have a summer reading list? Is it more accessible than mine? If so, please share!