Edna Millay went to the pool one day only to discover that someone with herpes had used her lip balm. At least, that was her suspicion. She was lounging by the shallow end at the Club, sipping from a margarita and enjoying a quality read by Jodi Piccoult, when she discovered that the very central indentation of her bottom lip was below a level of optimal moistness. She reached for the small pot of lip balm in the depths of her purse, enriched with shea butter, lavender, and tears from ethnic children, but when she dipped her finger into the balm and applied no more than a pinky’s tip to her bottom lip, she could taste something different, something viral, something immediately infectious. She immediately disposed of the balm, flinging it across the length of the pool. Though for liability purposes, we must omit the rest of this story from the published account, given that the balm allegedly hit and punctured the now destroyed eyeball of one Peter T. Bloomington, who also, coincidentally enough, had a raging case of herpes at the time.