What goes through your mind in a waiting room

So there I was, with my towel on my lap, waiting at the physio. In the village I live in, they call that a center; they not only throw the physios together, but you also get immediately immersed in the consultation business (the blocks are flying at you; all for the motor skills, of course). But in such a waiting room, all sorts of thoughts go through your mind.

1. Goodness, there are still posters. And local fairs, and praising the Lord in church. They hang them up like a kind of collage on the wall. Who could that man or woman be who is eagerly sticking them up with a roll of tape under their arm?

2. Do practices and centers get discounts on square meters of linoleum? In a somewhat dirty yellow or a bit shabby green. Li-no-le-um, strange word actually. Or do the therapists have mood samples to keep the patients in question calm?

3. In which person would that prosthesis have been? I was with my nose in the display case, and even though the prosthesis was polished to a shine, I could tell it was once part of someone. It must have been in someone's knee or hip or elbow joint or shoulder. I don't find that very appetizing, early in the morning.

4. Those slogans on informational brochures make you feel uneasy. I think you can make a fortune in the heavy-slogan industry. Actually, I leave the door again with a slightly heavy head. Because I'm only there for some pain in my lower back and a slightly pulling leg, but what those people have. Or the slogan is so catchy that you think you have it for the rest of the day. Something like that too.

5. A Vogue from three years ago. They still read those in waiting rooms, right? I think I've discovered the culprit of bad dressing. If you're not careful, you don't see that such an issue is way out of date and you rush to the store for such an ensemble. And gosh, it's on sale too, how coincidental.

6. The waiting room jungle, it exists. My physio has a ficus that makes the gardener swoon. It grows despite its lack of daylight. But they position it on the display case and let it cascade down with a lot of flair. I wish that ficus a better home.

7. What would that sprightly office worker be here for? Quick shoes, shirt buttoned up except for one button. He has a bit of trouble getting up from his chair. His physio greets him like an old acquaintance, so he comes here often or more often.

8. The man who says: ‘Are you sitting here all alone?’ Uh, yes? Was someone supposed to come with me? Did I break a waiting room rule by being alone? Can't I come in here without supervision? You're alone here too, right? Oh, you get confused in places like that.

I wish you little waiting and waiting rooms.