Today became amazing very quickly, friends, when I found out that the Bea taking a two-day class on a topic that requires advanced computer skills. Yes, you heard me, the Bea is being schooled. Not in her own castle, but in a location closeby.

I had heard rumors that such a class was happening. This afternoon, as I was coming into work, I went to where I thought the Bea was taking the class. The doors were closed, and the only evidence of the workshop: a table with what looked like the remains of a delicious breakfast spread. Yum, bagels and coffee….

Ok, stay on topic. So. Just when I was about to give up on seeing the Bea, the doors opened, and out of them flooded the oldest faculty members I’ve ever seen. It was like getting all most ancient people together in one place to learn the most difficult computer tasks they could possibly learn. Could I pay to watch this?

As soon as the doors opened, I charged in, hoping to get a glance of the Bea. But I guess she had gone out the other door because I missed her. Damn. So I walked back upstairs and saw her in the castle, in her element. Where she knows the most and is the best.

Hi there. The Bea isn’t back, but we’re expecting her return any day now.

In the meantime, let me tell you about my sandwich, which I am eating at this very moment behind the library desk. Shhhhh. I’m whispering now.

The bread: sour dough, from a new bakery I discovered. There are thin slices of smoked turkey with onion, tomato, lettuce, and cheese stacked between the slices. The lettuce is poking out, and the bread has all sorts of holes in it. The ‘wich was assembled in haste, but it’s so very good and so very forbidden.

I feel like I’m Mr. Huxtable from the Cosby Show. He sneaks into a kitchen, makes a gigantic sandwich (with salt, of course), and he takes that very first delicious bite. He usually gets caught by the Mrs., though, who scolds him like she would a child.

I just have to tell you that my afternoon of Internet bliss was just now interrupted by a  student. A student who asked a question I didn’t understand. Come on, now, students, give me a break.

To make matters worse, she was sent here looking for the librarian “who knows everything.” The Queen Bea, of course. This library is where professors send their students for any miscellaneous project. They send these students to the Bea, and the Bea sets them right with their academic question and any other question they’ve ever had.

With the Bea gone, I don’t have much to say, friends. Oh Bea, how I miss you.

There are three people in the library right now besides me. One of them is packing up to leave. Oh, wait, there goes the second one. Damn. I wish I could make them stay. Somehow it might make my job more meaningful.

There is one person left, and he is the computer guy, so he doesn’t count. If he weren’t here right now, I know what I’d be doing. Could you guess, friends?

I’ll tell you. I would be pretending that this was a real library. That’s right. I would be using this new scanner to scan books and practice my judgmental looks after the scanner beeps. “Look, sir, this book is way overdue.”

This pretend professor or student would look bewildered.

“I’m talking 10 dollars, sir. I’ll take cash,” I would say.

I don’t know how to work this equipment but I accidentally discovered one night that you could place any barcode under the scanner and it would beep. So scanning and giggling ensued.

Okay, so. I’m sitting here, in the library, and not one soul has stepped through the doors. Why, oh why, friends, can’t we just close at 5?

I know you don’t have the answer.

“Queen Bea,” I’ll call her, rules this library, and I am one of her little drones. She was already gone when I arrived at work today, but earlier she gave me another little project to do. After six months of working here, I’ve figured out a system for each little task, and this new one is no exception. I’ll stretch it out and fly under the radar for a week or two. I will quietly complete school-related work. The Queen will forget what she’s told me to do. Then, when she remembers and mentions it to me, I’ll get the task done within a few hours.

I’m guessing Bea is about 80 years old, but she shows no signs of retiring. She wakes up every morning, and spends what looks like a good amount of time spends coiffing her curly hair into a prominent poof. She puts on a quarter inch of brown eyeliner (at least) and dons a dark outfit. (She wears dark colors so the dirt from the books don’t show up on her sleeves.)

Bea’s rituals– personal, business or otherwise– never seem to change. But if they did, I fear the library would implode. The library needs her, and in her own stacks no one knows as much as she does.