Things started off so pleasantly. Wake up, read a little bit of The Road, then decide to go down to the weight room. Open the door, walk in. There, on the floor, next to the bike:
Two soiled latex gloves.
For one thing, I don't even want to think why those gloves were needed. For another, there's a damned trashcan less than 10 feet from where they were, right next to the water cooler I refuse to drink out of for very similar reasons. I used the treadmill, but couldn't bring myself to get on the bike with those gloves so close by. They might have the clap all over them, and that shit may have mutated to become airborne.
Hell, let's take a poll. What's the appropriate internal reaction to finding latex gloves on the floor of a public area where people are sweaty most of the time:
1. Oh, Jesus God, no.
2. Ewwwwwww.
3. Somebody go get an adult.
4. You never jerk it on the treadmill? What are you, a quaker?
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