my business cards may say “librarian” but i have a new subtitle: “the purveyor of secrecy”. yesterday, someone came in the library to clip his fingernails because he couldn’t get enough privacy in the men’s room. (yes, he disposed of the clippings in the garbage. you’re gross!) and just a moment ago, someone else came in to adjust her tights. they sneak behind the stacks where even i can’t see them – not that i’m terribly keen on watching these covert operations – and i feel ever so helpful, like low lighting on a bad hair day, or shadows for tears.