Things have been more dicey than usual at my home away from home lately. To work through some of my frustrations, I've been spending a lot of time in the gym (kickboxing works wonders to burn off negative energy). So when this online article popped up today, I thought I'd give it a read.

I have spent thousands of hours in gyms - for basketball, softball, various fitness endeavors - and, as a result, in locker rooms, over the years. And in all that time, never, ever, have I turned to someone in a locker room and asked to borrow their razor.

When it comes to goggles, sweatbands, razors, and towels, neither a borrower nor a lender be.

Would people actually do that? I wouldn't borrow anything from a fellow exerciser, let alone something that scrapes hair off my legs and armpits.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

I took the crazy nephews to their swimming lessons tonight after work. Matthew didn't quite make it to the end of class, so he sat in my lap for a few minutes while we waited for his brother to finish.

With the extra weight in my lap, it didn't take long for my ass to hurt, given that we were sitting on a metal windowsill. Thus ensued the following exchange:

Me: "My butt hurts. I need a new one. Where could I get one?"
Him (very matter-of-factly): "The butt store."