Okay, now that's a porn title. But this isn't porn unless you count library books among your fetishes.
I said library books, not librarians.
Naughty.
Yesterday we swung by the city library on the way home from an appointment, Jake wanted to find some woodworking plans and I am trying to learn to cook properly studying quantum physics and so we both went down to the nonfiction/reference areas and started off in different aisles.
Libraries for me are a time-space rift. I am in sensory overload the moment I walk in, so many words, so many endless possibilities, the smell of the pages, the choice. I was sitting on the floor gathering up my finds and was headed to track down Jacob when a book fell off the shelf behind me. I must have bumped it out so I leaned back to pick it up to return it when another one fell down. So I stacked both and stood up and put them back. I turned to gather up my books and another book fell down.
I must be slow. I just kept picking them up and putting them back.
When I returned the fifth book to the shelf another popped out right in front of me and in the space where it had been rested the blue eyes I love so much, crinkled up with mischievousness. Then he laughed, pushing the whole row of books down on me and I sat there and smiled at him, and he hunched down and smiled at me through the hole that he made in the wall while other people watched us with amusement and a solitary older gentleman scowled at hearing laughter in amongst the silent, dusty tomes.
Jacob then impulsively stuck his whole head right through the shelf for a kiss and got stuck.
A series of fortunate events followed as tools were sent for and a heck of a lot more laughter began to rise up from the 600 section. Even from the gentleman who had turned his scowl into a mighty guffaw as he regarded the impromptu rescue mission.
Eventually Jacob was pulled out almost completely unscathed if not just a tiny bit embarrassed and has a torn shirt and a two inch gouge on his shoulder from where the metal shelf bracket carved out a defensive battle wound. Those things are sharp, I expected him to emerge much worse than he did.
We were then instructed in future visits to carry out that sort of activity upstairs in adult fiction or that the very least over in self-help. We nodded soberly, deciding now was probably not the best moment to point out at least we were in the cooking section.
The next time we go I hope I find a book about learning how not to laugh when it's inappropriate to do so.
