We absolutely did not need this right now. This is an unexpected expense on top of an already rather strained budget. Knowing that I have everybody in the library behind me, each one scouting out used cars from their neighbors and newspapers, doesn't make me feel any better.

I don't like shopping for cars. I don't know what I'm supposed to be examining; I can never remember how high a mileage can get before it's "too high," and I only recently learned what a "cylinder" does and why six of them are better than four. I had a friend who purchased a used car for five hundred bucks in cash, and halfway home from the deal, the bottom fell out of the car; I thought to myself then, and still do, there, but for the grace of God...

I've always counted on my father to select my vehicles. His track record for doing so is only slightly sullied by an unfortunate incident with the first car, wherein it decided to throw a freaking rod and strand me in the middle of nowhere on my birthday. A passing trucker picked me up (paranoid fancies of pickaxes and bloody gags running through my head as he did so) and delivered me to "Fuel City," where I waited for four hours for Dad to come get me. The man who sold him the car had told him, "Well, this car may live another five years, or it may die tomorrow." Ah, Dad, the incorrigible risk-taker.

But Dad is not here to help us find a car. It's up to me and Eric, and I'm not really sure how much Eric knows about this sort of thing, either. He really has a wonderful knack for being able to sound intelligent about matters that he's only very sketchily studied, so while he may sound confident and articulate, I'm not sure if he's simply maintaining a clever ruse. He is an avid listener to Car Talk...

(I know he's going to be angry with my over the above paragraph. Let me state here and for the record that he is probably not fooling me over his knowledge of cars. He has, no doubt, learned a great deal about engines, tires, and other car parts over the years and through his current employer. I'm just being paranoid, but I can't help it.)

I've had this inane song stuck in my head for the past six hours. We sang it a couple of times during storytime today; I told the kids that if we sang it well enough, the sun might come back out. Well, we've had nothing but hard rain ever since, and the song has refused to leave me alone. I suppose it could be worse; the other song we sang today was "Six Little Ducks." But the one little duck with the feather on his back...

It's difficult for me to select each day's music and dances. I get bored from doing the same ones over and over, even if the children themselves don't complain. The other librarians don't seem to mind doing "The Hokey-Pokey" for the hundredth time, but I do. I feel it's my responsibility to find new and entertaining songs for the kids, so every week I'm searching through books of fingerplays and rhymes for new stuff. I occasionally find a gem, but it's becoming trickier each time. The children are three years old; odes to nightingales are prone to go over their heads by a bit.

Of course, the real entertainment comes when I find one that's a hit, and the other librarians want me to teach it to them. This morning I spent about forty-five minutes trying to get one of them to understand:

That's it. No singing, no complicated verses. Just straight chant, and you can make up other verses as you go (stomp you feet, nod your head, etc.). She kept asking me, "Now, how does it start, again?" I was ready to throttle her.

It does not take two degrees in music to understand simple children's rhymes. It doesn't take one. Heck, it doesn't take a high school diploma. If the three-year-olds can get it right off the bat, then what does that say about the librarians who need multiple repetitions?

I'm a little bit worried about how my book selection will be construed by those people handling our order; after all, nobody here knows that Eric and I are trying for a baby, so my purchase of Spiritual Midwifery and Active Birth may meet with a few raised eyebrows. I prepped our secretary, who took my order form, by telling her that many of my family members had placed orders through me. Still, I'm positive this won't go unnoticed.

I couldn't pass up the bargains, though. I can't wait to get my books! My only problem: I honestly did want to get some "luxury" reading for myself, but I couldn't think of any good titles to order. Usually when I read fiction, my choices are spur of the moment selections from the shelf. I was at a total loss when faced with a computer screen requesting ISBN numbers. Oh, well; maybe next time.