The Kindness of Strangers

I swam this morning in the pool with Duane at the 24 hour pool.  We did a warm up, followed by five 200's with negative splits, followed by five 150's with negative splits, followed by five 50's with negative splits, but that isn't what I am writing about.  I am writing about the lady in lane one that was seemingly overcome with rage when we entered her space and moved her cheese.  See, here's the deal; we all pay the same 25 bucks a month or whatever it is to the 24 hour adult day care corporate money laundering scheme.  For that overpriced purchase, I get the privilege of using the facilities, just like everybody else.  Some of the machines at 24 hour are single use machines, like the stairmaster.  If the psycho neurotic pussycat in lane one was on the stairmaster, I wouldn't have asked to share it.  Or, if there were already six people swimming in lane one, I wouldn't have asked to share it.  But since she was alone and the other lanes were busy too, we jumped in with her and politely asked her if we could share the lane.  She snarled like a panther about to garrote an antelope on the African Savanna.  I think she said something like "I do NOT want to share this lane" or whatever it was, I wasn't listening closely since I was staring at the fire coming out her left nostril.  Honestly, she sort of scared me so I said "Thank You" and followed Duane, who had already grabbed a chunk of the pool in her majesty's lane.  She moved to another lane as we weren't 'her kind of people'.

When I was growing up, I had a dog that bit my cousin. That dog was a great dog, and I loved her dearly.   She was a protector, a companion, a best friend.  One day, the dog bit my cousin.  Five stitches later, my cousin was fine. So my Mom had my Dad shoot the dog in the head with a 7mm semi-automatic Browning.  My Mom told me when I came home from school that the dog had to go live on a farm.  I was ten.  I didn't figure it out for like six or eight years that the dog may have gone on to live on a farm, but the farm was only a farm in the spiritual sense.  Anyway, that dog was a great dog and I loved her, but she had that one small bad habit.  The lady in the pool this morning had no redeeming value.  It begs the question:  What would my Mom have told my Dad to do?

So an hour and a half later, we go to Starbucks for some overpriced hot water in a cup and who should be there?  The Wicked Witch of the West.  Go figure.  She was ahead of us in line.  I wanted to ask if it was ok if I went in front of her in line, just to see if the right nostril could spew fire like the left one, but I was afraid she had a gun.  Some days are like that.

I just got back from a week in Phoenix.  I was working so its not a big deal, since I was inside all day, every day but it snowed while I was there.  In Phoenix.  Snow.

A big "congrats" to Nurse Joanie.