I wasn’t going to blog today, but then I went to the Library.

I like to make lists.  I have been making a lot of lists lately.  It makes me feel like I am Getting My Shit Together.  At this point I have about a million and a half things to do, consolidated on four different lists, but that's fine.  It's a process. 

So, one of the things on one of the lists was Get a New Library Card.

I used to have a Toronto Public Library Card.  Then I moved to Hamilton, got a Hamilton Library Card and threw out my TPL card.  I didn't really think I'd be needing it, ummm … ever again.  Whoops. 

The library only charges $2 for a replacement card.  I told the lady they were ripping themselves off.  Not like she can do anything about it, but all I'm saying is, if I lose my gym card, they gym is not charging me two bucks for a new one.  No, no, the gym charging me $25.  The gym is Not Fucking Around.  Come on TPL.  Seriously. 

Anyway, as I'm being re-enrolled in the active TPL roster, changing my name and address and feeling that warm and fuzzy, "yippeeee I'm getting involved in my community!" sensation, this lady comes in to return some books.  "Some of these are overdue," she tells the other librarian, "but I don't know which ones."  She starts rifling through her messenger bag and piling the books up on the counter.  The first book she puts down is, "The Joy of Sex" and I am not joking when I tell you, there were at least five other sex books in that pile by the time she had emptied out her bag. 

I just cannot imagine why in God's name you would want to check out how-to sex books from the library.  First of all, as it is, a typical library book is only just barely tolerable to me from a germ-carrying perspective.  Can you imagine what kind of germs are inhabiting The Joy of Sex?  Duuuuude, get that shit on Amazon.  Or like, at Good For Her.  For real, yo.

Even if I wasn't skeeved out by the germ issue, what happened next would be more than enough to prevent me from ever (EVER) checking out sex books.  The librarian, a 30ish, decent-looking guy, looks at the pile, looks at the lady, cannot keep the bemused grin off his face as he looks again at the pile, picks up one of the sex books and starts flipping through it such that he and I both end up with an illustrated sex education.  Oh Jesus, I bet he is still thinking about WHAT that lady got up to (as am I).

Grooooossssss.

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