JJ, Benny and I fly past the yard with the Dobermans and the fence with the yappy little dog behind it without incident. The quiet of the morning will not be pierced by barking and my shouts. As we round the curve, I notice clothes in the street. A tee shirt and gym pants lie discarded near the curb. They’re not torn or tattered or very worn. I wonder how these clothes arrived at this spot.
You are new to jogging. Everyone says it will help you drop some pounds. After a quarter mile, over heated and over dressed, you strip off your shirt and gym pants and toss them away. Relieved to be rid of them, and nearly exhausted, you walk home. Too tired to retrieve your clothes after your jog, you pick them up the next day.
Your daughter, Becky, and you yell at each other as you drive. She’s 13 and suddenly argumentative about everything. She hates the new shirt and gym pants you picked out for her at the Gap. In a tantrum, Becky tosses the clothing out the window. They land on the car behind you and slide to the curb. Taken aback and embarrassed, you keep on driving.
You’re late for yoga. You race out the door with your shirt and yoga pants in hand. You forget your shoes so you run back into the house, leaving your yoga gear on the top of the car. You race back out to the car, throw your shoes in and take off. Your yoga gear flies off the car as you round the corner. Of course you don’t know this until you arrive at the gym with no yoga gear except your shoes.
I think Becky threw them out the window. What about you?