I go to a strength training class once a week at my gym. Because it begins at 9:30 in the morning, it is populated primarily by stay at home mothers and retired women - people with whom I have very little in common. But there’s another woman about my age who has a job outside the home and she and I bond. Today she and I were stretched out on our backs, doing leg lifts. We had been discussing how hard it is to keep up with laundry.
I raise both my feet up over my head.
“Hey,” I say. “My socks don’t match.”
My friend collapses into giggles.
I don't see what's so funny.
The mister owns a book on weight-lifting written by Arnold Schwarzenegger. It is huge and has pictures. The pictures scare me, but this is not the point. My brother was perusing the book and looked up suddenly.
“I find that this book is more interesting if I narrate it to myself using an Ah-nold accent.”
I reply, “I find that my entire life is more interesting if I narrate it using an Ah-nold accent.”
Him, considering: I’m going to try that.
I am walking my dog along the river. It is 5 below and I am wearing enough clothing for a family of 5. My dog is doing that annoying thing where he sniffs, sniffs, sniffs, looking for the perfect spot to poop. Drives me nuts, because, hello! Here am I with this little bag, I’m going to pick that up as soon as you’re done anyway, so stop being so picky and just go!
Anyway, I’m standing there, freezing, while Charlie thinks about pooping and another lady comes up with her dog. Both dogs drop a deuce at the same time and we both sigh and bend over to scoop.
“The only good thing about this horrible weather is that I don’t have to walk around with a bag of steaming dog poop. It freezes so quickly,” she says.
I never thought of that.