My evenings at work are always amusing.
One of the Lisas comes in and stays until closing (or after) picking out movies and ignoring their children as they run up stairs with our encyclopedias or try to vault over the circulation desk.
Erin and I get a handful of candy and pretend that we aren't going to eat it all. And then we do.
And we do crafts.
Today, we had to come up with some kind of tambourine using paper plates. And when I punched holes and tried putting it together, I realized it needed some decoration.
The result of my "decoration" was The World's Ugliest Tambourine. I then wrote on it: "The World's Ugliest Tambourine: Play for 5 Cents" and began the other plate, painting it in a different but equally ugly fashion.
But in between the two ugly sides, some kid came in looking for a book. The book was an Eoin Colfer novel we don't have at the moment but may end up with soon.
So I told him and his dad we didn't have that book, but that we did have the Artemis Fowl series, which in my opinion, is the best thing that author will ever write, no matter what.
I took the two of them upstairs and showed them. Then I walked downstairs.
Now I must state for the record that I have been very clear, throughout my life to anyone that would hear me, that I knew I would at some point fall down our stairs in the library.
They are freaky, and the railing is funny, so I knew I would end up getting used to them just enough, then falling down them in a tragic way that would end with me being shown the door or a first aid kit depending on how badly I was injured or how badly I injured the books I would be carrying.
When I started working here, I knew the inevitable would happen: I would get used to the stairs, go down them fast and end up falling horribly, brutally injuring myself in a way that would make me extra happy about the whole health insurance thing. Or the life insurance thing.
Things were going okay until the last few stairs.
That is, as I was running down the stairs after showcasing the books we had up in YA.
Then somehow, my shoe became separate from my foot for a brief instant, and I became separate from the stairs.
Later, I found myself laughing hysterically as Erin got up and looked, finding me on the ground.
She was pretty nice about the whole thing (meaning, she didn't laugh until she saw that I was uninjured), and we went back to our respective painting.
Then, later, I was laughing about it some more, when she looked at me wide-eyed, and said...
"I bet it's on the security camera!"