It reminded me of The Brave Little Toaster. There was a shed set off in the woods. The doors were swung open and a car was parked in front of it. The tools had gathered round and were discussing something when, out of the woods, came an old woman. Now, everyone knows that tools are not supposed to talk, so I suppose it’s no surprise they were startled. All of a sudden, the car flashed its lights on and exclaimed, “Freeze!”
The tools froze in place, some falling over. The old lady put her hands in the air and, in the luminescence of the car’s headlights, exclaimed, “I didn’t do it!”
This was one of the dreams I had a couple nights ago. One of my closest friends, when I told her about this and another dream, she expressed great concern for the condition of my mind. She’s probably not alone in that sentiment, but as far as I’m concerned, it’s probably safer we not debate it. However, I digress. Whether it was past memories or a premonition, this dream has been at the forefront of my mind today.
I bought a shirt several years ago that stated in bold red and white letters, “I didn’t do it – Innocent Bystander”.
No matter how funny it may seem, (the shirt implies the wearer isn’t so innocent as they seem), I often find myself repeating the phrase and meaning it. It seems that the phrase has taken up prominence in my daily speech since coming to work in the library. There are some days that I wonder if I have some sort of stamp on my forehead saying, “Guilty. Ask me.”
“Lyn, when you changed out the toner in the copier-”
“I didn’t do that. I’ve only ever pulled paper out of the thing.”
“Lyn, when you (fill in the blank)-”
“I didn’t do it!”
Recently I have begun to wonder if perhaps this is some sort of off-brand divine retribution for getting my brother to take the blame for my misbehavior when I was little.
On the positive side of things, it would seem that my coworkers and supervisors seem to think highly of me. They must think I’m sort of library genius if they think I can do so much that they have to ask me about what happened whenever something messes up. Unfortunately, I have to burst their bubble. I really can’t change the toner in the copier, know what to do with the newspapers before I ever get into the periodicals department, or pretty much any of the other stuff that they have asked me about. Frankly, I do good to do my regular work properly. (I misspelled “spring” when marking one of the periodicals the other day). So if they were to ask me about something like that, I’d have to say, “Guilty.”
Until then, however, I will entertain thoughts of talking tools and old ladies.
“I didn’t do it!”