While Alan’s stuck in London for work, he’s encouraged me to use his community’s pool. And since it’s been hovering around 100 degrees and humid, I’ve taken him up on the offer. Repeatedly.
Yesterday, after swimming my mile, it was so hot that I just stood in the shallow end and read 100 pages of a book.
Hell, it’s been so hot that the lifeguard himself stands in the pool half the time. I can’t blame him.
Speaking of the lifeguard, I gave Alan a full report on him the other day so he would know what he was missing. (Each year the lifeguard is a kid from some Eastern European country here as part a summer exchange program. I’m sure they envision Baywatch and are mildly disappointed to realize they’ll be assigned to a pool in suburban Virginia with decidedly American waist-lines.)
This year’s lifeguard, whom we’ll call Grigor, is a bit clumsy. Or he has bad luck. Either way, I’ve had a lot of updates for Alan.
pithypants 