It’s Official – I’m an Oot

It’s official. I’m an OOT. The card to prove it is proudly tucked away amongst all the other plastic-ware in my bulging wallet – bulging from cards I don’t need, not money. This latest acquisition has big, black and bold lettering that winks at me every time I open my wallet. There’s no mistaking which card to use when the moment comes.

I used my OOT card for the very first time last week, barely minutes after having been issued with it. It nestled into my hand, the smooth plastic emanating promises of deeply intimate moments ahead. As I waited in line I envisaged myself curled up on the couch, surrounded by soft, pampering cushions. I imagined the taste of the clear, inviting glass of chardonnay on the coffee table – my self reward for being bold enough to take this latest step. I sighed at the thought of the pleasures I may encounter in the evening ahead.

This new life status came about because I desperately wanted something I couldn’t have. I’d found something that really tickled my fancy. The more I thought about it, the more I wanted it. Why should I be denied the privilege of taking it home with me, to enjoy at my own leisure. I’d had enough of coming in each day, sitting in a quiet but public place and indulging in my pleasure, little by little. I wanted to do this in the privacy of my own home, accompanied by cushions, wine and music. I wanted to take it to bed with me at night and wake up knowing it was there for me in the morning.

I made a decision. Maybe this dream could be possible after all. I simply needed to do was be bold enough to ask. I waited at the desk like a nervous teenager on her first date. The process was surprisingly easy. Very soon I was standing in line at another desk, having been given permission to partake of my newly found pleasure for a whole year.

I was filled with elation as I walked out of the building, my treasure clutched close to me. I caressed its surface tenderly, approaching the exit with caution. Could I really do this, or would I be apprehended? Silence enveloped me as I slipped through the exit gate – no bells and sirens, just me and my new found freedom. I was taking my book home.

You see, I’d just become an OOT, an Out of Town library borrower at the city I visit frequently. Often having to fill in short periods of time while visiting the city, I’d taken to dropping into the library and reading the minutes away. There’s nothing more frustrating than starting a book and not being able to finish it. The enjoyment is not quite the same reading it in instalments. And oh, the frustration if you call in and someone has dared have the book issued, depriving you of your next instalment.

Now I’m back in my home town, the book I had issued last week still here with me. I’m travelling south again next week, so have until then to curl up with it and be seduced by its words. I’m already half way through.