serinde

During lunch today,

spride and I went spelunking in the main college library. This minor, harmless event sparked several humbling realizations in me, to wit:

0. It has been a really, really long time--on the order of years--since I have set foot in an actual library. And me with scholarly pretensions?!

1. I couldn't remember how to find a specific book. Dimly I recalled "oh yes, the card catalog", but the march of progress appears to be several miles down the road. (Eventually a computer was located that had the appropriate searchy things.)

2. I failed at finding sections, too, because though I do have distant memories of the Dewey Decimal System[1] and the numbers within it relevant to my life, I am wholly unfamiliar with the Library of Congress system, which is what Hunter uses. (In spite of this, I managed to make a beeline for the history-of-costuming shelves. MAGIC!~)

I assign myself the penance of, on every lunch when I have no commitment and the weather is too inclement to go walkies, spending it in the library re-acquainting myself with its mysteries. Because my current situation is insupportable. (It might be argued that, for me, this is not as who should say penitential. But!.)

[1] I really wanted to make that a link to the panel from Tick #6, where the Red Scare is going to start his rampage by smashing up a park dedicated to "that decadent and imperialist American, Melville Dewey". The Intarwubs fale me. You'll just have to imagine it.