Cheer up honey I hope you can, There is something wrong with me

My pets-do you want to know something strange? I had a decent day today. Do you want to know something even stranger? I spent the entire day doing work I declared myself too educated to do. Stuff that harkened back to my first job-15 years ago now. Shelving, shifting shelves, shelf reading. All that shit-that's what I did. For hours and hours. And when I tired of that-I read. Just positioned myself behind a shelf and sat among the stacks and read. A book. Now a web page or the newest issue of Psychology Today or fanfiction but a deceased tree imprinted with ink.
I was avoiding work. Isn't that funny? I spent the whole day working much harder than I usually do in order to not have to work. See-there's this person I can't stand that sometimes works on Saturday. He took my parking space, first of all. It's my space and I like it and he can't have it. It's under a tree. If the tree had leaves on it I would get valuable shade by parking under that tree. There aren't any leaves right now, but if there were I would have chosen my space well. You see the logic, right? That and it's my bleeding parking space and he can't have it! I like things the way I like them and changes make me angry.
This person is an idiot. He talks constantly. About nothing. Less than nothing. If someone enters the building he says "There's someone here. Someone to check out books. That's good. That's good. Someone's here." If someone wants to use the computer he says, "That's good. That's good .You can get on the Internet. Yes, use the computer. Good." If no one is performing any action he reads random signs, "Gas has gone up to $2.39 a gallon. That's not good. No. No. $2.39 a gallon. Not good. Mama Mia, is coming to town, that's good. Mama Mia, yes. Featuring songs by ABBA. ABBA is good." His grasp of the multitude of adjectives available in the English language is someonwhat lacking. His ability to shut the fuck up already is really lacking. Working with him makes me long for deafness. That's severe-I love hearing stuff ever so much. The ability to hear stuff is one of my most favoritest senses. I daresay it is my very favorite. But I would relinquish that ability for the duration of the time I am forced to work with him.
Also problematic is the fact that he seems to be unfamiliar with the Dewey Decimal system. Now, perhaps I'm the exception, but I've had it pretty much memorized for nearly two decades. It's not that hard. It's damned easy actually. 000s-computers, 220s-religion, 629-car repair, 636-pets, 800s-poetry and drama, 970s-American history. Etc, etc, etc. Easy shit, really. Requires just less than half a brain to figure it out. Further, things that are in other groups (vids for instance-that all hae the call number 791.43) are in alpha-fucking-betical order. Alpha-fucking-betical. The first thing people learn when they learn to read. And yet the location of films on the shelf continues to elude him. And it's not just him either-it's every damn person that works there except for me and Katie. The page (spoiled brat-still hasn't spoken to me, it's been almost 2 months now) can't seem to savvy the alphabet. Neither can the volunteer. I've tried to explain that it goes A-B-C-D-E-F-G... and if they get messed up there's a clever song they can sing to help them along. They don't appreciate my assistance. In fact, they seem to like me even less when I offer the helping hand. Ingates.
Imagine my joy. The man that was there today-he's a branch head. A motherfucking head of a g-ddamn branch. It took him an hour to do 2 dozen paging slips and even then couldn't find half of them. I got my hands on them and had them all pulled in 5 minutes. How the hell does he run a branch? He's the only one what works there? Does anything ever get done? Or does he just sit at the desk for 8 hours a day reading the paper out loud and commenting about how the news from Iraq "isn't good."
And the there's the fact that I got all the books and videos shelved today. That isn't interesting unless you are told that the Napping Wearing Baby Page has been saying for 2 months that there was no room on the shelf for any more books and so she couldn't shelve anything. Her only job is to put the books that are on the cart onto the shelf. That's the sum of it. But for two months she's been saying it couldn't be done. So she's been coming in for 10 hours a week and talking to people on Facebook because there wasn't anything she could do about it. Funny. Hilarious, I would say, that with very little effort I got everything shelved. I even shelf-read a bunch of stuff and found several books that were on the shelf that didn't belong to our branch. I must have super human powers. It's the only possible explanation.
I suppose I should admit that all of this gave me a frightfully inflated sense of self-worth. Not really something I need because as much as I really don't like myself I do believe I'm way more awesome than most people. Definately smarter. And more clever and witty. And I have better hygiene than most of the people I encounter on a daily basis. Working around the lower among the denominators has done nothing to teach me humility. That's the thing I should admit. I had a good day today not because it kept me busy and the day went fast. I had a good day because all day my actions were a thinly veiled but undoubtable "FUCK YOU" to the people that have a full time steady pay with benefits job that I can't seem to get. "FUCK YOU"-I was telling them. You may have all that-but I AM SO MUCH BETTER THAN YOU WILL EVER BE. I DON'T EVEN HAVE TO TRY. I'M SUPERIOR TO YOU.

I am a charmer. Further illustrated by the fact that the phone just rang and I didn't answer it. There was a message. I deleted it without listening. Very bitchy of me. Cowardly too, I think. But, another call or two without a response and he'll move on. I wouldn't recognize him if I saw him on the street. It's no loss. Other than the almost pang of guilt I have from not having the decency to just tell him to stop calling. The thing is-if I talked to him--well, I don't have a lot of people to talk to...I might not stop. I might say things. I'd rather be a bitch than crazy. That's why I don't talk to people. I'm afraid I won't shut up. Get close to someone and s/he finds out how mad I am. No need to spread that around. It's in bad form for me to open up to people. I'm lucky to have the people I do. I push them to the brink on a regular basis. I feel bad enough about that. Don't need anyone else dragged into my bullshit life.