A guy is walking out of the convenience store as I go in. He appears to be a hobo in the not-good sense of the word. He is wearing a brand new “Addicted to Jesus” T-shirt and carrying a stack of Lottery scratchers.
The convenience store on the way to the gym is always manned by a crabby elderly woman with a thick accent (German? Czech? Louisianan?) She is on a rant today about how everyone should buy only American products. I wonder how many convenience store products are made in America. I play it safe and buy a Hershey bar. I’m almost certain Pennsylvania is somewhere in America.
I go to the gym on the first day in a month that the temp is in the 70s. It seems nice outside but there’s a storm coming in and I’m tired of thinking. Treadmiling for a couple of months just sounds easier. I hope it was made in America.
Another 5 miles at 12-minute pace. I sing “Here we go again, another round of blues” over and over till my head goes to sleep and I can run uninterrupted. About 3 miles in, I remember that this tm gives the bottom of my right foot the sandpaper effect while running in the Piranhas. Either socks or duct tape will be needed. I have no idea where my socks are living these days. Luckily I have a lot of duct tape. No idea where it was made.
Mo’s gone until the 5th. I lament eating all of her popsicles in her absence. I vow to buy her some more before she returns. I’ll eat those too.
I drive home in my Japanese car. My Hershey bar has melted. It’s already starting to get hot again. The hobo is somewhere scratching his lottery tickets. I’m betting Jesus doesn’t let him win. But then Jesus wasn’t an American anyhow. Another round of blues …