Pearl Pad

Strange, why would anyone put a journal or diary under lock and key? It isn’t even quality paper and the hard cover is worn out. This should’ve been thrown out and considering it is garbage, why was it in a lock box?

I am a library manager so this is inventoring. That isn’t a real word, but there are a few things I’m looking for. See, books, like people, get old, they literally get bugs, deteriorate, patrons fuck them up, we get donations which aren’t appropriate, and other shit happens. Don’t need porno next to Disney. There’s also weird shit patrons leave in the library books and the things people and their pets do to our books. Pets piss, shit, chew and other things. People write in them, tear pages out … speaking thereof, somebody tore pages out of this diary/journal; I’ll abbreviate it DJ. It’s trash anyway. Need to look up last patron and charge them for it.

Weird, there’s no library barcode on this. Sometimes patrons steal our books and tear the barcode off and we charge them an arm and …. Yeah, I hate trite phrases too. A lot.

But, can give it to one of my kids if we don’t find it in the card catalog. If you’re reading this article in the future, I’m from 1990. Hi. But I put it on the side. I’ll take it home and use it for something. Maybe for random thoughts, grocery lists, messages on the telephone. Write down messages and phone numbers; the usual. Find a lot of other weird shit going through the books. Stickers stuck to pages by kids, bunny eared, pen and marker writing. Today, lucky me, I found an expired condom someone used as a bookmark: “Reduce, reuse, recycle”. The book was about parliamentary law. It’s expired so I’m throwing it out; the rubber not the book. It’s a reference book. Is someone having sex …. Nevermind

Old books have odors caused by lignin and cellulose. That and dihydrogen monoxide. No one tells the patrons what to do when dihydrogen monoxide gets on their books.

*

Long day, helped patrons with their questions, argued about fines, etc., but now I’m home with my family and my wife and I are making veal Marsala. So we mese en place beforehand. Here is the list of ingredients : veal cutlets, flour, salt and pepper, olive oil, Marsala wine, mushrooms, veal stock, garlic, onion, parsley, lemon juice. I check the fridge and multiply everything by 5 since there are five of us.

She picked up most of the ingredients yesterday but the kids ate some of them. They’re kids. That’s what they do. So I take out the POS pad from the lock box at the library and write down mushrooms and I go back to check how our lemon juice is since the kids sometimes put it in their cola or on tuna sandwiches, and think there’s enough, but as I close the fridge door I notice there’s an unopened container of mushrooms where I’d just looked. Weird. Long day at work and I’m tired so I must’ve missed it. Need to scratch it off the list. So, me and my wife put everything on the counter to mise en place and, since we have it, I cross off the mushrooms.

So, after looking at the recipe, we unwrap the veal and it says to pat it down with paper towels. So, we have paper towels and we pat down the veal, but we get to the core of the paper towels. You know, the cardboard thing. So, I remind myself, in my head, to write it down. We put salt and pepper on it and put flour on it.

We heat the frying pan on our gas stove top. While waiting for the pan to heat, I write down paper towels in the POS Pad. POS, by the way, stands for piece of shit. Then, I hear something. I used to take mediumship classes so this is normal, but the voice is different somehow from Spirits.

“How many what?”

My wife knows I’m a medium, even though she doesn’t believe in it, she respects it.

“Paper towels. One roll, combined roles? Looking for some specificity here.”

We go through a lot of paper towels, so I say 10 and then I notice 10 paper towels in our pantry. Might have been there before, but …

“So, if you can talk, are you a genie or, what are you?”

“I’m the Pearl Pad”.

“Honey, I can’t do this all by myself, I need your help. We’ve discussed this. The spirits will be there later.”

“Right. Yes, Dear. Coming.”

“Are you a spirit?”

“Yes, but I’m alive and my name is Daisy and I’m your wife. Whoever it is can wait, unless there’s an emergency, okay?”

Right, add veal to pan cooking 2 minutes per side until light brown on both sides.

“No, I’m a Pearl Pad.”

“My wife said you’re gonna need to wait Pearl Pad, but are there…”

“At least don’t burn it because of your spirit friends.”

Take it all out and put on a plate with paper towels on it. Wonder if the paper towels can talk too? Add butter, slice mushrooms. Add garlic and shallots.

“The grocer has a good deal on garlic this week.”

“They do?”

“But I can just get some more for you.”

“They do, what, Sweetheart?” she asked?

“Talk to you, later, Pearl Pad.”

We finish cooking and everything turned out. My wife says Grace and we eat, but as we eat, I start thinking. Is Pearl Pac stealing from the supermarket? Where is she getting this from? Am I paying for it on my credit card? Could I be arrested for this? But if it’s a magic genie …. I need to ask it that later.

*

We get done with dinner and my job is to wash the dishes. Fun. But, while prepping the hot water, I wonder if I write down “installed dishwasher,” what would happen,” and as I go over I see writing in handwriting I don’t recognize. I look at Pearl Pad and it has written, “No, the paper towels can’t talk. It’s not exactly stealing but will take a lot of space to explain. I’m getting these things from damaged returns and fixing them. No, you’re not paying for them and won’t get arrested. I’m not Genie, I’m Pearl Pad.