Monkey brain

The gym is one of the few places I go and I don't go there all that often. It's always a bit of a shock when I first arrive. All the television screens. I don't have one of those at home. What you notice right away is that everyone is acting. Everyone is selling. Everyone is trying to herd you in one direction or another. I'm glad I can't hear what they're saying. 

So I turn my attention to the people around me. Everyone is acting. Everyone is performing. Posing or trying to hide. I get annoyed at the conversations. I start picking people apart. Judging them. Ranking them. Especially the Alphas of Planet Fitness. They strike me as the most ridiculous.

Once I've run on the treadmill long enough, something inside me says - stop running and run. I'm not sure whether it's a commentary on all the ridiculous behavior I see going on around me or if it's talking directly to me. Then it hits me. You - the people I'm annoyed with - are all me. Now I can stop looking at them and start focusing on the rhythm of my feet, my breathing, the clock on the treadmill's display panel.

Later, I took my mother to a medical appointment. This ended up requiring three more procedures and four more stops. She was a trooper enduring them all. Along with the underlying unanswered questions. The NP who examined her first was very thorough and communicative. We both like her. In fact, we both liked every receptionist, technician and provider we came into contact with. Each interaction, however brief, made a positive difference. 

Arrived home after dark. My dinette had arrived in three cardboard boxes and was waiting for me in the rain. I prepared a grilled ham and cheese sandwich after moving the boxes inside. I used to make them regularly when the kids were small and we all lived together. It's been years. It was pretty good.