A week or so ago I was out running in Memorial Park. This is a big ass city park- and it has a three mile trail around it that I frequent as often as I can. Reminds me of when I really ran a lot prior to children and domesticity.
Bear in mind that this particular run was on a Monday morning at about 10:15 a.m. I stopped in to the tennis center to "powder my nose." (Yeah, right. My head looked like a giant tomato that had just been run under a shower.) There was this dude standing outside of the ladies room holding a giant sized black trash bag. You know.... Hefty or something. He wasn't wearing exercise clothes- more like khaki shorts and a grey tshirt. Nondescript.
Well, he was just standing there. About 4 feet from the entrance to the restroom. So I thought I was being all considerate and asked him if he needed to get in there.
"I DON'T WORK HERE!!!"
The tone was not nice. As a matter of fact, it seemed that I had inadvertently just called him some kind of incredibly insulting thing and spit on him. So much for my "thoughtfulness." Oops. I clearly ruined his morning.
Whatever. It was about a zillion degrees outside and I was hot and not really all that affected. I went in, did my business, and trudged on.
About a mile later I started to wonder what the Hell he was doing around the ladies restroom at the public park carrying a big black trash bag. Shudder.....
And yes, indeed, this is what I look like when I get back from a run outside in Houston. Except usually I'm even redder. Bet you're glad I shared that, right?