Please no naked men in the men’s locker room

Billy showed me this comment card on our way out of the Y yesterday:

Someone else must have written the “OLD MEN DON’T KNOW BETTER.”   For some reason, this comment really ticked Billy off.  I didn’t understand why until we got into the car.  As we were driving home, Billy said:  “I shave naked in the locker room.” 

I understand now.  Billy is obviously one of the “excessive number of men” referenced in the comment.  Billy is not, of course, the one drying his hair.  He has no hair to dry.

“Why don’t you put on your underwear before you shave?” I asked.

“Because I get out of the shower, shave, put on my deodorant and then bet dressed.”

I get it.  It’s his routine.  He shaves naked at home too, but I don’t mind.   Billy is not about to change his routine because of some prude in the locker room.

Speaking of routines, I have settled into one also.  Billy and I go to the Y almost every day.  I feel good while I’m working out and for a couple of hours afterward, but then the endorphins drain away and I go back to feeling depressed and anxious.  I’ve been eating a lot of Tums lately for the anxiety.  I get chest pains when I’m anxious.

We have only had one viewing for our house.  One.  I guess it’s because of the snow.

My mother has found a new apartment and is marginally speaking to us again.

I’m looking for a new job, but it has to be on my terms– less stress.  Finding a new job is proving to be more difficult than I thought it would be.  I’d like to combine several part time jobs into a full time job:  some teaching, some free lance writing, and some legal work.  My therapist keeps saying I have a lot of options, but I wonder.

Perhaps I could get a job at the Y as an attendant in the men’s locker room.  

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