Anyway, today was (is, since I still have a few more hours of work)one of those days that challenge my ability to stay calm, focused and librarian-like.
A woman brought in her two shrieking, evil offspring and played with them in the children's area. That's okay. That's what it's there for. The shrieking and crying irritated me, but I dealt with it.
Until the baby shat. And shat hard. Oh my god, there were literally stink lines coming from that kid's diaper. Did the mom take the kid into the bathroom and change its diaper? No. Did the mom leave? No. She sat there for easily 45 minutes while her baby sat in its own filth, an olfactory terrorist.
My eyes were watering by the time she gathered up her smelly loin-by products and left. I was just about to say something to her. How could she ignore that? Has she gotten so used to the smell of offal that she doesn't even notice it anymore? Even when the kid's diaper turns brown? Yick.
I'm going to go snort Glade until I get light-headed and stupid.
