It's been a good day today. I got enough sleep last night, indicating that I may be acclimated to my new schedule. I had been waking up after three hours of sleep no matter how tired I was, and I usually can’t get back to sleep. I’ve gotten a lot of reading done this way, though.

I went to the Mill this morning before work to get a little something to eat. As I stood in line with a smattering of pastel-clad hand wringing southwest matrons, I decided on a large butterscotch chip chocolate chip scone. (They’re real, and they’re spectacular.) The credit card machine broke when I was about to pay, so I got a free piece of bread for waiting. I was still on time for work, so the point of the story is the scone.

Shelving books was everything you might expect, but there was one point of mild excitement. I was shelving a car repair manual when I noticed someone making strange noises on the other side of the shelf. I ignored it, as I often do to pretty much everybody save for co-workers. Then I heard a hissing sound, followed by a quick inhalation, followed by a low grunt and a hand grabbing the shelf. I could smell some kind of gas, too. It was one of the indigenous bums huffing gas, like, four feet away from me. He walks around the corner and looks at me for a second, as I squat down where I was shelving. I don’t look up, as I’m not quite sure what to do here. “D’hew-hur-eer” the now visible noise says. I look up at him, doing my high school drama class best to look like I hadn’t known he was there. He was a stunted little rodent of a man, with old clothes and a blue bandanna, the type of garb that the destitute welcome wagon gives out. “What?” I honestly had no idea what he said, his eyes focused on anything but me. “Do you work here?” he successfully vocalized. I nodded and said yeah, and went back to what I was doing, and he did the same. After a bit of thought, I decided to tell security. This seemed like the kind of thing they ought to know, that the business and technology section was being used as a crack house annex. I snuck away to the desk and told the guard at the front desk what goofball was up to. He said he would send a guard back to check it out. You’d think that this is where things would get cool, right? You’d expect a Cops-style bust where the grey shirted hardass would chase the bum across the whole building before tackling him and hosing him down with pepper spray. I wanted something cool to happen, but he just went and looked at the guy, who went and sat at a table to read. Well, as well as he could, all hopped up on goofenthal. What kind of security guards are these? The guards in Metal Gear Solid investigate if they see anybody, for crying out loud. And don’t let the blue bandanna fool you, this guy wasn’t Snake. His voice was all slurred from his last two brain cells rubbing together, so I kind of wanted to offer him a dollar of he’d say “Hey- the sheriff is a ni___r!” like the crazy old prospector from Blazing Saddles. That would’ve been sweet.