I must have stamped a hundred reading logs yesterday. Every time I turned around, there was another child waving a paper in my face, eager for a prize. In the moments between children, I was occasionally given enough time to attempt to straighten the chaotic mess of toys lying about the room. The noise level was at least three times that which most of the toddlers could happily handle, so there were always at least two of them screaming and throwing overstimulation-induced tantrums. When Boss-Lady finally tapped me on the shoulder in the middle of the afternoon and said, "Go take a break, Carrie," all I could muster was a weak, "Thank you."

Unfortunately, her statement was swiftly followed by, "You'll need your rest for Vacation Arts in fifteen minutes."

I won't get into how awful that turned out, except to say that the kids finished their projects well under the expected amount of time and began to wreak havoc in the basement by toppling stacks of books and jumping on antique furniture. I had to send an emergency messenger up to Boss-Lady to beg for an extra picture book for a time-killing storytime. Happily, she sent down a rather long and gross one, involving plenty of bodily function sounds, which kept the kids quite entertained until their parents arrived.

Today was only slightly better. We had a ventriloquist come in for two shows, so the only really bad moments were the fifteen minutes before and after each show. I sat in on the second show; it was extremely juvenile and rather preachy ("Remember kids: Read, Read, and Read some more!"), but the kids laughed like maniacs and were thoroughly wound up. I didn't envy the parents who had to drive them home afterwards.

I was originally trying to come up with a way in which to get away for the weekend, but I've got a sneaking suspicion that it's not going to happen. Eric's been in training all week for one of his plant's system components, and he hasn't been getting home before seven all week. A week of twelve-hour days is enough to make him adamant about not making any long trips, so I guess I can throw out any ideas of Chicago or Ann Arbor again.

I'm trying to work out the possibility of a trip back to my hometown next weekend. I finally managed, counting the librarians' meeting we had this morning (that's one of the things I wanted to talk about! Okay, I'll get to it in a minute.), to come up with enough comp time to allow me to take next Friday off from work, so the trip is only hinging on Eric's ability to do the same. Amy's aunt is hosting her bridal shower that weekend, and I haven't been able to say for certain whether or not I'll be able to attend. I would love to go, but I just don't trust myself to drive that whole distance by myself. Ever since my big accident, long stretches of solitary interstate travel give me the shakes.

I listened for a while until I was positive that I had been doing everything correctly, which didn't surprise me - it wasn't all that long ago that the procedure was explained to me, and it hasn't become second nature to me yet (kids rarely reserve books), so I haven't had time to start getting lazy or careless. I glanced around at the other librarians. They seemed confused as to even what the problem was. Seeing that the woman leading the meeting was getting frustrated, I jumped in and tried to, subtly, help her out. She gave me a very grateful look, and some of the librarians began to nod. Then a whisper began to circulate among the crowd: the mistakes must be coming from the substitute.

As we have not yet replaced the librarian who left a month ago, we've been using a sub. She's a very nice, older lady. I've seen her in action a few times, and she seems to have a good grasp on things. This is not the first time, though, that mistakes have been blamed on her. Missing notes? She must have misfiled them. Messy carts? She must not understand the procedure yet. Mistakes on reserves? Why, of course, it must be her!

The scapegoating has irritated me before now, but after seeing the vacant looks on so many faces during the explanation of the problem, I find it rather difficult to believe that everyone standing in that crowd was crystal clear on the correct manner of making reserves. I have a sneaking suspicion that just about everybody in that meeting had made the same mistakes over the past few months. Blaming the new girl just seemed cruel in that context.

It was the easiest way out, though. Once her name was mentioned, the meeting ended within five minutes. I grappled with my conscience as a wash of uninvited gratitude swept through me. I didn't say anything. I'm not sure what I could have said, but it will niggle at me for the rest of the night.