I used to adore library duty, and I fully expect my fondness of the job to return in a few days. But lately, I've been visiting too much for a literature search run that just will not end. I've been here so often that people now regularly ask me for directions, I notice when someone is not a regular, and I know where the secret stash of trashy magazines are (trash as in Us Weekly, no Maxim, as Killer was disappointed to find out- for some reason they are not on the reading room shelves next to People en Espanol, but are scattered randomly throughout L1), and I have seen every medical journal title imaginable. There are plenty of morbid and obscure ones, sure, and publications of every medical society from every nation, but the journal that takes the cake is the succinctly named Placenta. I don't ever want to read anything from Placenta.
Even with my patience for library duty running thin, there is still one thing I love about coming here: I can blog in peace (until someone discovers this and fires me, that is).
1 comment:
Josh still picks on me for the fact that my first ever time in print, I was published in Blood.
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