So! Three days a week I'm walking about four miles a day. Go me! And I assume someday I will stop being completely exhausted all the time. Today is not that day.
However, never let it be said that our workout regimen is without excitement. Yesterday, we went over the causeway, like we do, and on the return trip we noticed that there's a walkway that actually runs under the bridge. So we, being the inquisitive-type people we are, took a walk along this walkway. Under the bridge.
It was quite obviously a hotspot for fishing types, given all the... fish guts (oh, the aroma), and there were empty beer bottles and discarded bits of fishing line, and the whole "walking under the bridge" thing seemed like a much better idea when I hadn't considered the olfactory aspect of it. Needless to say: gross.
Anyway, we're walking and we're walking and-- okay, so you've got this cement walkway that runs under the bridge (about halfway out, leaving enough room for boats to pass under the bridge). And there are these enormous cement supports that are... yes, supporting the bridge. These supports (which, to reiterate, were HUGE) have four sides to them, and about ten feet above the water line, the support widens about five feet on all four sides, creating a sort of ledge.
And as we're walking, I saw a man standing on this ledge, fishing. He... also appeared to be talking to himself, and there was what looked like a sleeping bag rolled up next to him. And I felt that pang of "Aw, man" you feel in a situation like that. I assume everyone knows the little twinge. Then, as we passed, I glanced over my shoulder and saw that it wasn't a sleeping bag at all, but a woman curled up on her side, sleeping, and... yeah. Another pang. Weirdly, I almost felt as if I was... intruding?
And then, out of nowhere, Tora whacks my arm and says in a very low, urgent voice: "Turn around and walk."
I, being reasonably quick on the uptake, did just that.
"Keep walking," he said, also quietly. "Don't look. Just keep walking."
So as I'm walking -- quickly, I might add, to keep up with George (who ALWAYS complains to me about my death-march pace and long-legged strides) -- I'm wondering what his damage is. As unfortunate as it is, it wouldn't be the first time we've seen a homeless person, and it's really not necessary for him to wig out like that.
"Did you see that?" he asked me, when we were out of earshot.
"Yeah, I think they were homeless."
Insert long pause wherein my darling husband gives me a look that... is not easily articulated (but I like to refer to it as his "Oh my god, you're supposed to be smart" look). "He had a gun, Kara."
"In the waistband of his pants."
Insert a longer pause wherein I walk faster.
Evidently he hadn't been talking to himself, as I'd thought, but had instead been talking on a cell phone.
So... yeah. I still don't even know what to make of any of that, but let it be said there is NEVER A DULL MOMENT with us.