Of Black Toenails and Shin Splints

New addition

It's not often that I get pumped about new music added to my iPod. Music is music to me; after all, I'm hearing-impaired and tend to miss nuances in any given song (as well as mishearing lyrics) because of my disability.

But anyway, I  fished a copy of a Boyz II Men (warning sign one) out of the discount bin (#2) of Best Buy (#3) about two months ago, finally found it buried under assorted crap in my basement, and put it on my iPod. Dude, BIIM is the bomb! The CD is one of those "not really a greatest hits album, but let's pretend that it is" deals that has the songs I haven't heard for years since I foolishly sold my II CD untold years ago. How I've lived this long without regularly hearing "Water Runs Dry" is beyond me.

I can't wait to hear this while playing grand shuffle, which is something else that mystifies me. I regularly shuffle all of my songs, but since I also tend to add songs every week or so, I might go a month or more without hearing some of my songs. The other day, for instance, I was surprised to hear "Have You Ever Really Loved A Woman?" (I will never be accused of having good taste.) I'd totally forgotten I had that song, so it was nice to hear. Which makes me wonder what else I'm missing, but alas, alas. My iPod is five-ish years old, so who knows what I actually have on it.

Besides a lot of Elton John, of course.

It's a holey night

(Please don't hurt me because of the pun.)

I have three pairs of socks that are at the end of their respective lines. Holes of various sizes are in all of them, and what I find most remarkable is that the holes have all formed within the last week, as though my socks got together in the dryer and said "Let's end it all."

(The other remarkable thing is that I'm devoting a blog post to my socks. Yeah, that's interesting.)

But really, they all need to go, and soon. My feet are incredibly tender and get so scratched up from the chafing. I'd never make it on an ambitious hiking trip; I'd be the one crying and complaining at the end of the first hour, then limping my way to camp and arriving hours after everyone else. That's the good times I bring.

But yes, new socks are on the agenda, never-you-mind how old these pairs are.

Same story, different day

I've fallen into a routine at my workout center. I arrive about the same time every day, do my thing (half-hearted attempt at running, then weights), then I hit the showers. Since I am there more-or-less at the same time, I tend to run into the same people as they go about their routines. I navigate my way through the same crowd that hits the treadmills, I always run into the same two people as they hustle to yoga, etc.

One of the people I see all the time is an older woman who must finish her workout about the same time that I'm drying my hair after my shower. Every day for the last two weeks - every blessed day - this woman will gather up her clean clothes, turn to me as I start brushing through my hair, and say "Don't you feel much better after a workout?" EVERY DAY, GUYS.

And, as I'm ingrained in the routine too, I smile automatically and say "Yes, and you?" We have the same conversation every day, and it drives me bananas. For once, I'd like to get through my beauty routine without talking to someone, and for another thing, I'd like to not have the same conversation. Creatures of habit, etc.

As soon as I see this woman making her way to her locker, I start to prep myself. "She's going to ask me in 10, 9, 8..." I think to myself as I rush to start drying my hair in the hopes that she wouldn't dare try to talk over a loud blowdryer (Surprise! She will!).

And then I feel selfish and rude. This woman isn't doing anything wrong by talking to me. It's annoying, but that's not an offense. It's at this moment that I start to think about her life. Maybe she sees me, wearing pretty much the same jeans-and-a-shirt outfit every day, and thinks "Ugh, she's always there, drying her hair. I should be nice and try to engage her in conversation."

Well, maybe.