Someday, maybe

Had another marathon day of work today, including a 12-page single-space multi-chapter jobby that needs a lot of massaging, to use barfy editorspeak.

I was on a break, running through Cambridge Common this morning when a guy in street clothes and sunglasses appeared alongside me, smiling. He was one of three Romanian students. They had a list of foot-related colloquialisms that they needed some help with. So I explained what it means to throw yourself at someone's feet, to get your foot in the door, and to put your foot down.

I had similar experiences in college, only with Japanese students. I'd get approached by a group of girls in the cafeteria or outside. They tended to ask "When you get married?" after which they would giggle, a lot.

When I'd finished helping the Romanians, the sunglassed fellow jogged with me for a few feet. "I run every morning," he said. His tummy seemed to contradict this, but then I run 6 miles 3 times a week dragging two large buttcheeks behind me.

He ran with me for a little bit, then waved goodbye and headed back to his friends.