I'm Just Burning

What an odd day. I spent my lunch break at the library, going over my final draft of an affidavit of good moral character that I had to write for a friend applying to the New York bar. (more on that in a minute) Once I was satisfied with it, I wandered around the library a bit, writing down the titles that interested me, to be taken out when I'm finished with the current stack. I love libraries in general, and the Boston Public Library in particular. It's huge and old and has all these bizarre little passageways and doors that take you to mysterious rooms made of marble. Recently the courtyard of the center of it was completely revamped and it's beautiful - a tiny garden in the middle of a busy city street. Today, however, I didn't explore any of that - I just reveled in the presence of thousands of books. I feel most comfortable in the library. There's no pressure to say the right thing, or anything at all, but you can pick up any book off the shelf and still be part of a conversation. This however, was not odd, it is just what my brain rambles on about if I let it.
After work I needed to get the affidavit of good moral character notarized, presumably to show that I am of good moral character and not a liar. This is where the day turned odd. I ended up locating a realtor on my way home who provides notary services (thanks GiantWow!). I walked over so as not to contend with Red Sox T traffic, and found myself in front of a tiny, dark storefront that offered a variety of services. Only some of them are realty related. Others appear to be... auto parts? I later found out from the magical internets the history of my notary-man:

"Z--- Brothers history began in 1893 with a deep family commitment to innovation,dependability, and concern for human achievement in business. The Late Joseph R. Z--- started in the old West End of Boston, manufacturing, selling, and installing soda fountains. Our business expanded into locating business locations, designing and building restaurant of all types. Later his sons joined him in the various divisions; sales, service, and promotion. Since then, we've established a pattern of steady growth, and sound expansion."

MM-HMM. So, ok, he has a wide variety of businesses, none of which strictly seem to go together anymore (realty is related to soda fountains how now?) but I don't care about any of that, I just want him to notarize my document. The lights are off but there is a VERY large tv in in the small cluttered room, so I decide to try my luck and the door at the same time. It opens, and the man watching the large tv stands up. I explain what I want, and he says, "Well, I knew I was waiting around for somethin'. Guess it was you." He turns on the lights to reveal a dirty office that I cannot describe except that it was full of STUFF.
I give him the document and he looks at it very carefully and asks for my ID, then says, "Ya got ten bucks, you're all set." He then fills out his bits, makes me raise my right hand and solemnly swear to the veracity of my statement, all while Donald Sutherland is blustering in an uninteligible accent on the giant tv about Russian liars and sentient lightning. And that's that. I am, according to the Commonwealth, an honest person. As I'm leaving, he says very seriously "God bless America." I have a weird feeling that if I go back tomorrow, the shop will no longer be there.