A thing I adore, part 1

When I get an email from the library that the books I ordered are in, I usually go to fetch them at the Harold Washington Library downtown on Saturday or Sunday.  I used to go to the library then to Macy's where I'd walk through the main floor, look at handbags, then take the El train home.  I rarely shop at Macy's and I no longer buy handbags at department stores, so I basically go downtown, get the books, and return to the street for the bus.  Often I will get the same driver I had going downtown.  I go to the first floor, get my books, and then perform a ritual that I've come to adore.  If my sister has books for pickup, I will leave her a note.  Once I left her a rubber stamp imprint of Harriet Tubman on a notecard.  (A friend from Texas had acquired a Harriet Tubman stamp to put over the face of Andrew Jackson on the 20-dollar bill.  (It's civil disobedience, friends.  Ms. Tubman should be on the 20 but Donald "Yeah a racist" Trumpy managed to get it stopped.))  Usually it's a note saying hello.  She sometimes will leave me a note, too, like "This is your sister and it's 2:27pm on Sunday."  (I look at my watch and it's 2:45pm and I know my sister and brother-in-law are somewhere in the building but it's multi-storied and I don't feel like dragging my ass from floor to floor.  Oh, I could send a text.  I guess I don't want to do that either.)  Today I left a philosophical question.

I hope she has the answer.  (More next week.)