The Author Provides a Look At His Day Including Something Really Weird at the Gym

There's no reason to use this photo of Lana Turner but there's also no reason not to

A woman at the gym today was signing. Loudly. And badly. I was on a stair master and initially couldn’t figure out what the caterwauling was all about. Was someone in pain? Was a TV on? Was I hearing things? Nope. It was a woman who I estimated to be in her mid thirties “singing.” That in itself was weird enough. But singing loud enough for half the gym to hear was another matter entirely. Maybe it wouldn’t have seemed so awful if she’d had a nice voice. Not even her mother would like this woman’s warbling. She was trying to hit notes that were well beyond her range. It was bizarre. Being sensitive to noises, I had to move from the machine I was on and put on my headphones which I bring with me to the gym for those occasions when someone near me is talking on their phone, or sniffling repeatedly, or loudly chewing gum or humming. I never imagined needing it for a singer.

At the end of my workout I do another set of stretches. This after walking to another part of the gym. The woman “followed” me there. I had to get the hell away from her. I got a good look at her first. She appeared, for all intents and purposes, to be “normal.” But the too loud and too high-pitched and too awful singing betrayed someone who had a screw loose. I hope she gets it tightened soon.

As to the question of what kind  of singing she was doing, well that’s hard to say given how pitchy she was and the impossibility of deciphering any of her words or whether there was even a tune. It might have been a hymn or it might have been a pop song or it might have been an operetta. Who could say?

Once again I’m reminded of that trite expression: it takes all kinds. I’m also reminded of my firmly held opinion that maybe certain kinds we can do without. Like awful singers who cut loose in the middle of a crowded gym.

My workout done I walked home. More accurately I sloshed home. It was pouring rain. My umbrella kept me mostly dry but there was no help for my gym shoes, socks and feet. There were massive puddles, some the size of Lake Tahoe, every three feet. Normally I cut through a park but due to all the precipitation it is currently suitable for submarine rides. So I settled for sidewalks. Or aimed to. Puddles abounded. A large percentage of my walk home was on the streets. It eventually got to the point where my feet were sopping wet and it thus made no sense to bother going out of my way to avoid puddles. Once you’re soaking wet more wet isn’t going to make any difference. 

After returning to our puddle-free home I very much enjoyed a warm shower and donning dry clothes, particularly socks that had not an ounce of water on or in them.  

The missus was kind of enough to provide a warm lunch and Bob’s your uncle. 

The holidays are well and truly over and I miss them dearly. It’s back to a regular work schedule and the total absence of holiday decor, trees and music. Regular ole life.

Depression has been beating me over the head of late and was particularly bad this morning. The trip to the gym, despite the unwanted crooner and the veritable swim home, have snapped me out of it for the time being. I’ve also enjoyed the Sunday Times though articles about The U.S. violating international law and ignoring the constitution do not give one cheer. We’re in a sorry place indeed.

Well, I’m not going to dwell on that, not while my mood is at last elevated. I’ve got a book to read, a book to write, movies to watch and music to listen to. I’ll not be able to do all at once so I get to pick and choose. Lucky me.