Punched in the Gut
My day was actually fairly routine, for the most part, until I stepped from my car on Delaware Avenue and made a turn on the sidewalk only to be nearly run down by some Lance Douche Armstrong jackass peddling his bike as if he were in the Tour.
"Sorry, Dude," he yelled.
My heart was pumping loud. I thought of a Bruce line:
The things that'll knock you down you won't even see coming. They'll send you crawling like a baby back home.
So I made my way away from that moron and headed to the doctor's office to see if I could set the date on getting the tear in my hip fixed.
As I waited there an elderly woman was headed out of one of the examining rooms. Her daughter, I assume, was behind her and she made steady progress with her walker, taking a good few minutes to navigate the short hallway. When the lady got to where I was seated she smiled.
"Ain't life a peach," she said.
She took another couple steps and swiftly cut wind just mere steps from where I was sitting.
I jumped up.
We both laughed.
"So sorry about that," she said.
Ain't life a peach.
I moved around town, visiting a few jobs including one where the residents of a loft type apartment are paying $1.5 million to live in a space that is one-third the size of my house. All of the material possessions were brand new and the place looked classy, but man.
I cut through the fancy building and was making my way clear of the place when I opened the door to a community recreation room.
There was a fooseball table, a bubble hockey table, an air hockey table and a shuffleboard table.
That's when I was about bowled over because I thought of one person and one person only.
My brother Jeff.
He absolutely loved playing all of those games and he would beat my brains out at each one.
I closed the door, almost hearing the laughter as he spanked me.
I felt as if I got run down by that bike and I could still taste the gas that old lady passed.
Just a day.
Just a few minutes.
Sends you crawling like a baby back home.
"Sorry, Dude," he yelled.
My heart was pumping loud. I thought of a Bruce line:
The things that'll knock you down you won't even see coming. They'll send you crawling like a baby back home.
So I made my way away from that moron and headed to the doctor's office to see if I could set the date on getting the tear in my hip fixed.
As I waited there an elderly woman was headed out of one of the examining rooms. Her daughter, I assume, was behind her and she made steady progress with her walker, taking a good few minutes to navigate the short hallway. When the lady got to where I was seated she smiled.
"Ain't life a peach," she said.
She took another couple steps and swiftly cut wind just mere steps from where I was sitting.
I jumped up.
We both laughed.
"So sorry about that," she said.
Ain't life a peach.
I moved around town, visiting a few jobs including one where the residents of a loft type apartment are paying $1.5 million to live in a space that is one-third the size of my house. All of the material possessions were brand new and the place looked classy, but man.
I cut through the fancy building and was making my way clear of the place when I opened the door to a community recreation room.
There was a fooseball table, a bubble hockey table, an air hockey table and a shuffleboard table.
That's when I was about bowled over because I thought of one person and one person only.
My brother Jeff.
He absolutely loved playing all of those games and he would beat my brains out at each one.
I closed the door, almost hearing the laughter as he spanked me.
I felt as if I got run down by that bike and I could still taste the gas that old lady passed.
Just a day.
Just a few minutes.
Sends you crawling like a baby back home.
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