Riding down.

As I found out today, books aren't allowed in the gym's sauna on the grounds they're a fire hazard. Because it's hot. So I couldn't finish reading my collection of Raymond Carver short stories and clean my pores at the same time.

When I asked why, the woman told me it was because books are a fire hazard, so I asked why, and she said, again, because they were a fire hazard. I asked if she was worried about faulty wires, or if she thought there was a chance of sparks or open flames in the sauna, and she didn't have an answer. So she directed me towards a higher-on-the-chain employee, who also said it was because the sauna was hot, so books were dangerous in there. I tried to explain as best I could without pulling the librarian card that paper alone wouldn't catch on fire, no matter how hot it was. They gave me the gym director's business card, so now I've got a number to call.

While it's true the books would get more flammable, it's a dry sauna, and if they're worried about fires in there then the gym should look into problems beyond patrons occasionally bringing in books. Now mold in the steam room, that's a legitimate concern!

Other bizarre things encountered recently include women's shaving products at a local drugstore, which had me wandering out of there wondering why, for the love of God and all that is holy, some marketing executive decided razors needed scents. I protested it in my own little way and bought the store brand. Also Gilette shaving cream. I don't mind shaving my legs as a concession to mandatory social conventions, or as a thing to do in the shower since shaving cream's fun stuff to work with, but that's taking gender roles and expectations to levels previously beyond the impossible.

Oh yeah, and electric stoves set toast on fire.