A big part of my job is to be plugged in to what people are saying. Heck, I even have to pay attention to what people aren’t saying. The point is, being an observant sort is a big old plus when you are in my line of work. Being able to communicate is key. Trust me, there is nothing worse than a librarian with communication issues, as many people have told me. (And about that? Why must people always tell me about the crusty mean librarian that they had when they were kids, or that they saw when they took their kid to the library? I am not responsible for all the librarians around the world, people! I don’t know why that librarian was mean to your kid. There’s no librarian mind meld that I can do with them to make them act better. I am sorry that you had a mean librarian once at some point in your illustrious life. I feel the need to apologize on behalf of all the hordes of kind, hard working, smart, lovable librarianfolk I know. We’re sorry, ok? All of us. Really truly sorry).
This weekend though. I felt disconnected from people. Confused. As if I were dropped into another culture of which I know nothing and I am trying to muddle through by communicating via charades or something. And Nordic Boy, he is right there with me. We were lost this weekend. Totally lost.
Episode #1, In the Anthropologie store.
I bought this pair of pants at Anthropologie that were as cute as can be. I loved them in the fitting room. Then I came home and tried them on again, and as I walked around my house, the pants felt a great need to be at one with the floor. It was as if gravity in my house was way stronger than in the store, and the pants wanted to just fall right off of me. Walk, walk, walk. Sag, sag, sag. So I took the pants back. And had this conversation:
Me: I’d like to return these pants.
Anthro-lady: Was there something wrong with them?
Me: Oh, they were just really droopy on me.
Me: Droopy. They were droopy.
Anthro-lady: What does that mean?
Me: You know…saggy. Like they were going to fall off.
Anthro-lady: Oh! Saggy! Ha ha! And what did you call that? Droopy?
Me: Uh. Yeah.
Anthro-lady: Ha ha! That’s funny!
Is it just me or does it sound like this lady has never heard the word droopy before? Isn’t droopy a word? Of course it is! There was even that cartoon dog named Droopy and everything! DROOPY.
Episode #2, at dinner
Nordic Boy and I went to dinner on Saturday night at this italian place that we’ve been to many a time before. When we got there, we could see that there was only one table open for two, and the rest of the ones that were open were large tables for 6 or more. The hostess took us over to a huge table.
Me: Is it ok if we have that table over there?
Her: Oh. Yeah, but are you sure?
We sat down.
Nordic Boy: Why did she not want to seat us here?
Me: I don’t know. She looked kind of concerned for us, didn’t she?
During the course of that meal, the server asked us not once, not twice, but THREE TIMES, if we were sure we were ok at that table. “Are you sure you’re ok over here?” “Let me know if you want to move ok? It’s really no trouble.” And, at the end of the meal, “thanks so much for putting up with that. We’ll get you a better table next time, I promise!”
We kept looking around, trying to figure out what the hell was wrong with this table. It wasn’t cold, nor was it hot. It was spacious, yet cozy. The table was stable and not wobbly or anything. It wasn’t near any obnoxious people nor was it near the bathrooms. What was wrong with that table? WE WILL NEVER KNOW.
Nordic Boy went to a party on Sunday night. He came home early, around 9:30.
Me: How was the party?
Nordic Boy: I had to get out of there.
Nordic Boy: You ever go to a party where you can’t understand anyone?
Me: Oh, was it too loud?
Nordic Boy: No, I could hear everyone. I just couldn’t understand them. Like, what they were talking about. And when I would start talking about something, they would all nod their heads and give me a sympathetic look, like I was their slow cousin and they were all just humoring me to be nice. But I couldn’t be mad about it, because when they would start talking I was doing the same thing. You know what I mean?
Me: Totally. I hate being the slow cousin.
Nordic Boy: I’d rather be the slow cousin than be surrounded by a party full of slow cousins.
Me: Good point…hey, can I ask you something?
Nordic Boy: Yeah.
Me: If I said the word “droopy” to you, what would you think?
Nordic Boy: Huh?
Me: You’re giving me the slow cousin look.
Nordic Boy: So are you.