Posted in humor, Libraries, Mysteries, New Blogs

A Mystery

I have a tradition: every week I go to the library to read Sunday’s New York Times. I ask for it at the desk, the librarian asks for my library card, I give her my card, she gives me the paper, then I read it in a room where I can spread the paper over a long table.

Today I noticed that my favorite room had been boarded up. “What’s going on?” I asked the librarian.

She said, “That will become our new Mystery Room. All the mysteries will be shelved there and we will have events.”

“I love mysteries,” I said. “Will authors speak?”

She hoped so.

Then I asked for the paper, and she asked for my card. I looked in my purse. No library card. I could not figure out what had happened to it.

It was a mystery.



I am a rather obscure 14th C. poet, whose work has been translated into over thirty dialects of gibberish. I now spend my days translating from the gibberish into English and back again, as need be.

6 thoughts on “A Mystery

  1. EtM, your posts always bring a smile to my face. Thanks for this as we deal with all the negativity in the world. You are breath of fresh air. I hope you find your library card; it is one of the most precious things you own. ~nan

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Ooooh, a missing library card! Maybe it’s lurking with your missing socks. If you had to look in my pocketbook, you’ll realize that items have a way in hiding in various compartments. As a gold medal library patron, I hope you find your card, maybe in the Mysteries books.

    Liked by 1 person

  3. Like lilyalfred I think your precious library card is with the missing socks and my bobble-headed pens! Or possibly, the card was attracted to the Mystery Room and simply wanted to stay there. Perhaps, a piece of dark chocolate might attract it out of its hidey-hole?

    Liked by 1 person

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