Clowns

This morning I ran on the treadmill next to the same lady I ran next to yesterday. When I run I spontaneously sing along to my music. Just a short note or word, I can't control it. The word blurts out of my mouth before I realize I'm in public. This seemed to affect the woman next to me. After my outburst, she'd turn her head 90 degrees and look directly at me, holding the stare down for a couple seconds. I didn't turn my head to look at her, but I felt her eyes on me. To play ignorant, I looked in the other direction, toward a flat screen TV playing Fixer Upper.
Yesterday, after I worked up a glistening sweat, I started to notice I smelled like an onion. Again, I had to act oblivious, rather than call any attention to the fact that I smelled like a Gilroy Garlic Festival dumpster. There was no way to smother the smell, since putting a sweatshirt on would result in fainting from overheating. I worried my treadmill neighbor's penetrating stare was a way to inform me she finds my singing and stench offensive. To continue my position of ignorance, I switched screens and fixated on Michael and Kelly. I don't usually watch "day time" TV because The Real Housewives aren't up that early (too much skinny girl dinner, wine.)

Watching Michael and Kelly without any sound seems like a laugh factory. Michael laughs, then Kelly laughs, then someone else laughs, then they all laugh together. I was having a great time in my head, thinking of a very funny scenario where a morning talk show host's fake laugh becomes increasingly belligerent. As she introduces each new segment she looks more and more disheveled. In the end, the woman, who looks a lot like Kelly Ripa, laughs and cries as she paws over her co-host who looks just like Michael Strahan. By the end of the hour she is stumbling around, exposed bra, yelling about injustices and sexually harassing Michael. An assistant comes over with water, and she bats him away, "Who gave me wine. I weigh eighty fucking pounds. Two sips and I black out!" She ends up at craft services, stuffing food in her face, and repeating, "I forgot how good food tastes."

My daydream ended when my arm pulled the earbuds cord, and my iPhone flung out of the cup holder. I yelped, leapt like a gazelle, straddled the treadmill and back stepped to get my phone. As I reattached it to the earphones, I looked up, blushing by having showed  fear in public. The thought of tripping on a treadmill makes me cringe, and I'm not about to make America's Funniest Home Videos after loosing all my teeth by smashing my face on a conveyer belt, that flings me against a wall.

This morning, I didn't have powerful BO to act oblivious to, but I still had involuntary blurts of singing, and I'd look away to avoid her penetrating gaze. Then I felt her looking at me for no reason. I couldn't understand why, then I smelt it. She farted. I had the decency to not stare at her. I didn't even get to feel righteous because I pulled the iPhone out of the cup holder again, did my screech, and retrieved the phone that flung from the machine. I looked up as I was putting the cord into the phone, and the lady looked over at me and smiled. Laughing along.
After my run I hurriedly took a shower, and got the kids from the kids club so we could power grocery shop then go to a birthday party. As I was heading into the locker room there was man sitting solo in the hot tub. His eyes were closed, he had ear buds in and he was singing loudly. I had to look at him for a couple seconds because he was having such a great time, party-for-one, and I wondered, what's he thinking?