Maybe I need to reflect on the very real possibility that I'm just a bit salty about this whole thing because, when I was playing sports in school, our wound care consisted of an old toolbox full of glorified duct tape, an ice machine that might have a few cubes but only if the Pepsi wasn't selling well that night, and no shortage of dads who would loiter around the bench laughing at your grotesquely swollen ankle telling you to "walk it off".
“ . . . that musty, small-town video shop set up in the dining room of an old house where someone was likely murdered.”
Of course, I did not have social media when I was born (in the 70's, a number which is ancient to some, and is causing others to collectively roll their eyes), and therefore could not document the occasion, but I can imagine the type of thing I might’ve posted.
There is a strip mall near my house that is home to the following stores: a running shoe store, a performance supplement store, a fitness facility, a shoe repair store, a podiatrist, a pharmacy, and a Baskin Robbins. It's like a metaphor for the life cycle of the semi-motivated middle-age man. Stage 1: "I've GOT to … Continue reading Life Cycles