In Flagrante Delicioso

I experienced sitcom-style timing at my local library today, fellow sensation-seekers.

I arrived at my favorite table and I was nearly done setting up The Workspace Where All The Magic Happens (remote edition). I was literally pulling the last required items from my backpack when a librarian passed through. She was distributing new "No Food Allowed" signs here and there.

I paused in mid-action.

Then I slid my Dr Pepper and a little bag of M&Ms back into my bag.

The library always had a formal "no food" policy. But they unofficially permitted to-go coffee cups and vending-machine-style snacks and beverages, under a sensible "look, just be sensible, all right?” carveout. I've often seen people violating this accord over the past months — a salad? In the Quiet Study room?! — so I suppose I should have seen this coming.

I know the staff, so we chatted. I offered my sympathies for their having to deal with

(Andy removes monocle, wipes it with a silk monogrammed handkerchief, replaces monocle)

…the kind of RIFF-raff who were abusing the policy, and making things difficult.

They assured me that I wasn’t part of the problem. It was OK for me to enjoy my favorite productivity tools (delivery systems for sugar, carbs, and phosphoric acid). Which was awfully kind! But I knew that I shouldn’t. The library wouldn’t have put out those signs if they didn’t consider this to be a problem. Those signs’ effectiveness would be halved if even a single library patron were spotted In Flagrante Delicioso (so to speak) without being scolded.

I acknowledge that this post amounts to public virtue-signaling, and I’m sorry. I can’t even justify it by claiming I’m trying to inspire others through my behavior.

I’m putting this into the public record only because there’s a petulant child among the chorus of voices in my head. At this moment, I’ve literally taken his candy away from him.

He knows he’ll get his candy and soda as soon as I leave the library, so he isn’t throwing a tantrum over this. But he’s still a little pouty, and if I’m honest, he’s entitled to these feelings. I think if I let everyone see what a Bestest Of All Good Boys he’s being about all of this, he’ll settle down completely and I can get back to work without any further distractions.

A little later, I overheard a phone ring from elsewhere in the library. Its owner answered the call, and said “I’m in the library…I can’t talk.” I heard nothing after that, except the sound of the air conditioner and the pay-as-you-go color printer/copier occasionally jackpotting a few coins back to its user.

Today (Saturday, June 14) has been a rough one due to a couple of news events you might be aware of. It was weighing me down a bit. These thoughts inside the library have been a bit of a balm.

It feels as though God (or whatever) is making a subtle point about what He (or whatever) expects from us. Mostly, all that’s being asked is that we continually be mindful of the effect our choices can have on others.

In a shared physical space, such as this library, the effects of our choices are immediate and obvious. In a more conceptual type of shared space — such as a community, or a country, or just, you know, this planet — our actions rarely connect their effects in any immediate or obvious way. Tossing an empty soda can into a bush isn’t like touching a hot stove. That’s why we need to practice this kind of mindfulness continually, as an ongoing principle.

I’ve just performed a search for “vintage monocles” on eBay. It turns out that they are cheap and they are plentiful. I’ve added a couple to my Saved Items list. The more I imagine myself doing the “remove my monocle and clean it, while sighing and adopting a look of disdain” move when the moment calls for it, the more I think “Man, that’s a baller move.” Right?