I guess life must be pretty calm (read: boring), because all I have these days are gym stories.
Toward the end of my workout the other day, a woman who sees me there most every week comes up to me, smiling. “I just saw you in the parking lot,” she says. Since I’ve been in the gym for an hour and a half, I’m a little confused by this. “Oh, yeah?” I say. “Yes, getting out of your van,” and she lowers her hand, like a wheelchair lift.
“Must have been some other woman in a wheelchair,” I say. “I don’t have a van. And I don’t have a lift.” She looks puzzled. “Don’t worry,” I say. “We all look alike.”