In The Library

Not a real post here, just an amusing story:

I was working on a rough draft of a research paper of epic length this evening, gathering books to drop as evidence. I had made a bibliography that was due last week, but had sort of cobbled it together out of random likely-looking books I read summaries of online. Anyway, after not really finding any books that fit my needs, I decided to look back at that bibliography, and see if the library actually had any of those books. To my increasing surprise, each and every book on my works cited page was also housed in the library. I was delighted, and deeply impressed with the power of the St. Lawrence library, quite ready to forgive them for the weird (but not entirely unpleasant) odor that permeated several the books I found. But it really seemed like an amazing coincidence. Then I remembered: I had compiled my bibliography based on books I had found while searching through the school library's database. So naturally, everything on my list, and on the entire database, could be found on the shelves.

I feel like there is a moral hidden in there.

And it's not that I'm a bit lacking in common sense. Not where I was going at all. Thanks a lot, Inner Sarcastic Voice.