I'm sitting here in bed, trying to write a book report. Gawd. I thought I had left that crap behind in fifth grade.
Anyway, my window is gloriously open, letting in the sounds of the birds in the tree that blocks my view of the telephone pole and cars squealing around the corner too fast. Just moments ago, it also let in the sounds of what had to be a teacher. Think teachers have a look? They also have a sound. There was some fatigued shouting in response.
Such sounds are typical after school. We live on a hill – rather steep, long one – and sports teams from many schools train as I sit and nibble a candy bar, watching them sweat and heave and hold themselves.
But it is not after school. It is not yet noon. It would be unusual for a gym class to come this far, but not unheard of. Anyway, I had to look.
I did not recognize any of the kids. They looked like they were probably about 15 or 16. Some kids were running, some were walking, many were complaining. As I said, it's a long, steep hill.
They were dressed not in gym clothes, but regular school clothes. Some had pulled their jeans up to their knees. One girl had pulled her T-shirt up and exposed her rather soft, bulbous belly. She held something orange in her left hand. It looked like a tube of deodorant. She held her boobs with her right hand. Another girl was carrying a large black purse and high heels but was wearing a pair of black skate shoes. A boy had an orange extension cord slung over his back. Another boy had a large, gold stud in his ear, a bright blue polo shirt with the collar up, and long basketball shorts. It did not look like the outfit he probably wore out of his house this morning. He was quite developed. He looked like he could probably run up and down the hill without breaking a sweat, but he walked.
The shouts continued. The kid with the extension cord started to run. The chick with the high heels stopped to adjust her socks then started to run, too.
I have no clue what they were doing. I'm guessing it was some team-building adventure exercise that very extroverted types love to inflict on others. The kids didn't look too thrilled. I wonder where they came from? I wonder where they went? I wonder what they were doing?
4 comments:
WTF? Did you ever find out?
The possibilities are endless, aren't they? You need a competition to come up with the best story.
I'm with RC on this!! Now you've peaked out interest too!
Okay - back again! I just read your comment over on mine! And I laughed - although I don't know if I'm supposed to.
Your husband reads my blog?! Does he read other people's? I'm not even sure if I should ask what he says about it.....
Joy t. told me recently that she found out her husband reads my blog as well. He doesn't read blogs - except for Joy's - so she was rather impressed with that...and so was I!
Thanks for letting me know Amy - The Man smiled when I told him too.
Sorry, I never found out about the kids and their peculiar pursuits.
Aims, my husband didn't say he read your blog. I left it open on the communal computer, and I found it later all the way to the end of your post, which I hadn't gotten to yet. And no one else had been home, so it was he.
He does keep up with some of you blog buddies because I talk about you. I'll remark about something deliciously funny or horribly gut-wrenching, and he'll say, "Is that so and so from A who does X?" and I'll say, "Yup," or "Nope, that's who's her face from B who does Y."
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