Whilst Playing Racquetball . . .

Thing #93: I have good hand-eye coordination.

At least that's what Rob said . . . while beating me 15-3 at racquetball. It was a good time though. In between games he taught me some tips regarding where to stand, correct postures, and how not to slam into walls at high velocity. Also, I learned that concrete walls are hard. Really hard. So is the floor. After diving for the ball at one point, Rob congratulated me on getting the hit. I responded that I was too late and he agreed, but was apparently impressed with my willingness to sacrifice my body for the point. My body was not so impressed, as it has reminded me several times since.

After Rob left, I went to the exercise bike to wait for Katherine, who was grocery shopping. There's nothing like reading about the hotly contested Democratic race, whilst pedaling at an average speed of 17 MPH. There's a good reason there's nothing like this. Also, I like using the word, "whilst."

Afterwards, Katherine picked me up, and asked what we had talked about. The rest of the conversation went something like this.

Katherine: So what did you guys talk about.
Me: Racquetball. You know, proper stances, ect.
Katherine: Oh. You didn't talk about life and stuff?
Me (giving it thought): No, just racquetball.
Katherine: But, what about when you were volleying.
Me: We just volleyed. That's all.

Truth is, it's hard to discuss life and love and what-not in an echo chamber. Not that I'm against trying. It's just not what guys do I guess. Not like a hard and fast rule, just not really something we would think of. That's all for now. I'm lucky I haven't fallen asleep on the keyboard.

Kiwifruit.