The Library

Yesterday I received an e-mail from my friendly local library about a book I had returned a month ago. The e-mail was somewhat alarming, since it stated that it may pursue legal action against me if I did not return the book. I called the library and told them I'd returned it about a month ago. The person at the circulation desk said she'd look for it. No one called back or sent me another message saying, "Sorry; we made an error; we found your book," or "Bring that book or else!" So, I went to the library yesterday evening and asked whether the book had been found. My account had been cleared and they had apparently located the book. At least I didn't have to pay the flat fee for being late. It's $5 per book when the book is more than two weeks late. It might be more cost-effective for me just to go to Barnes & Noble.
Something funny happened on the way to sleep last night. I said my usual good-nights to the smallest child in the house. Every few days, right after she gets buried under her covers, she decides she's thirsty and cannot possibly get back up to fetch water for herself, and asks, "Will you get a drink of water for me?" This instantly irritates me, since I'm usually grumpy by bedtime, I'm eager to go to sleep and it always takes an excruciating amount of time to round her up and get settled in. I said my usual, "Arrrgh. You get it yourself. I need to go to bed now." She said, "OK. If I were from England, I would probably say, 'Pardon me one moment, mother. Please, would you so kindly carry a cold, refreshing beverage to my bedside? I'm rather parched.'" She won me over. I came back with the cold water, responding, "My dear daughter, I so appreciate your most eloquent request for a cold beverage with which to quench your thirst. I would be glad to carry it to your bedside." The articulation of the request was much more compelling than the need to stifle the perpetuation of the water-fetching favor.