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So anyway I'm so tired I can barely keep my head off the keyboard. It's beckoning me "Come, rest you weary head on my pillowy keys." I know this is a lie, I know if I fall asleep on the keyboard, I will awaken to the sight of some authority staring at the little square indentions in my face.

It is so nice a quiet, the regular pack camped out in front of their screens. One guy is hunched over, intently scrutinizing a site devoted to those tiny, little radio controlled cars. He was crushed when he found out we only had black and white printers. Another gangish looking guy is inexplicably cruising luxury bathroom fixtures, if you are forced to use a public computer, can you really foot all those high dollar goodies? A woman sits working on her resume, with three other people telling her what to do, I'd kill them if I were her.

Then there is the rat faced girl to my right that has been plugging password after password, trying to get her Yahoo account to work. I've got a hint: sign up for another account. Nobody cares. Either that or don't attempt complicated processes while strung out on meth at the public library.